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PORTRAIT, U/ILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 



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^famous Cbaracters ot Ibistor^ 

WILLIAM 

The Conqueror 

BY 
JACOB ABBOTT 

Volume XII. 
ILLUSTRATED 



1906 
THE ST. HUBERT GUILD 

NEW YORK 



Workshops : Akron, Ohio 






l.ieRARY of CONGRESS 
Iwn Conies Received 

AUG Q 1906 

CLfSS CC dc. No. 

/^ 9 / a<? 

COPY B, 



COPYRIGHT, 1906, 
BY 

The St. Hubert Guild 



PREFACE 



Of all the men of history who have borne the 
brand of illegitimacy, there is none more illustrious 
than William the Conqueror, the son of Robert "the 
Devil," Duke of Normandy, and Arlotte, the tanner's 
daughter, of Falaise. Proud of his son, and confident 
of his prowess, the duke left him as ruler of Nor- 
mandy while he made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. 
The youth at once gave evidence of the genius which 
was later to gain him the grim title of "Conqueror," 
by overmatching the barons who fancied that they 
should have it all their own way with their boy duke. 
The audacious project of the conquest of England he 
accomplished with terrible success, and held his sub- 
ject territory so firmly in his iron grip that Normans 
and Saxons began to weld into Englishmen beneath 
the mighty pressure. Whether it be true or not that 
his physical strength was such that he could draw a 
bow that none of his subjects could bend, the figure 
may be accurately applied to his mental powers, and 
few of his successors on the English throne have been 
worthy to wear his crown. 



(ix) 



/ 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



Chapter Page 

I. NORMANDY 1 5 

II. BIRTH OF WILLIAM 30 

III. THE ACCESSION 47 

IV. William's reign in normandy (>(> 

V. the marriage 85 

VI„ the lady EMMA IO4 

VII. KING HAROLD I23 

VIII. THE PREPARATIONS I42 

IX. CROSSING THE CHANNEL 163 

X. THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS 1 83 

XI. PRINCE ROBERT'S REBELLION \ lOT] 

XII. THE CONCLUSION . 227 



(xi) 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



William the CoyQSJEROR 

Page 

PORTRAIT, WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR . . FronttSptece 

HAROLD RENOUNCING THE CROWN OF ENGLAND . .193 

WOUNDING OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR .... 24O 



(xiii) 



WILLIAM THE CONQ^UEROR 



CHAPTER I. 

Normandy. 

The Norman Conquest. — Claim of William to the throne. — The right of the 
strongest. — The English Channel. — Nature of the French coast. — Nature 
of the English coast.— Northmen and Danes.— Character of the North- 
men. — Their descendants. — The Dukes of Normandy. — The first duke, 
Rollo. — History of RoUo. — His rendezvous on the Scottish coast. — Ex- 
pedition of Rollo.— His descent uj)on Flanders. — Rollo passes the Straits 
of Dover. — Difficulties encountered. — Charles the Simple. — Defeated 
by Rollo. — Treaty of peace. — Its conditions. — The three ceremonies. 
— Rollo' s pride.— Kissing the king's foot. — Baptism and marriage. — 
Rollo's peaceful and prosperous reign. — Description of Normandy. — 
Scenery. — Hamlets. — Chateaux. — Peasantry. — Public roads. — Rouen. — 
Its situation. — The port of Rouen. — Its name of Le Havre de Grace. — 
Intermingling of races. — Superiority of the Norman stock. 

ONE of those great events in English history, 
which occur at distant intervals, and form, 
respectively, a sort of bound or landmark, 
to which all other events, preceding or following 
them for centuries, are referred, is what is called the 
Norman Conquest. The Norman Conquest was, in 
fact, the accession of Wilham, duke of Normandy, to 
the English throne. This accession was not altogether 

(•5) 



i6 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

a matter of military force, for William claimed a right 
to the throne, which if not altogether perfect, was 
as he maintained, at any rate superior to that of the 
prince against whom he contended. The rightfulness 
of his claim was, however, a matter of little conse- 
quence, except so far as the moral influence of it 
aided him in gaining possession. The right to rule 
was, in those days, rather more openly and nakedly, 
though not much more really, than it is now, the 
right of the strongest. 

Normandy, William's native land, is a very rich 
and beautiful province in the north of France. 

It lies on the coast of France, adjoining the Eng- 
lish Channel. The Channel is here irregular in form, 
but may be, perhaps, on the average, one hundred 
miles wide. The line of coast on the southern side 
of the Channel, which forms, of course, the northern 
border of Normandy, is a range of cliffs, which are 
almost perpendicular toward the sea, and which frown 
forbiddingly upon every ship that sails along the shore. 
Here and there, it is true, a river opens a passage 
for itself among these cliffs from the interior, and 
these river mouths would form harbors into which 
ships might enter from the olfmg, were it not that 
the northwestern winds prevail so generally, and drive 
such of a continual swell of rolling surges in upon the 
shore, that they choke up all these estuary openings, 
as well as every natural indentation of the land, with 



870] NORMANDY 17 

shoals and bars of sand and shingle. The reverse is 
the case with the northern, or English shore of this fa- 
mous channel. There the harbors formed by the mouths 
of the rivers, or by the sinuosities of the shore, are open 
and accessible, and at the same time sheltered from 
the winds and the sea. Thus, v/hile the northern or 
English shore has been, for many centuries, all the 
time enticing the seaman in and out over the calm, 
deep, and sheltered waters which there penetrate the 
land, the southern side has been an almost impassable 
barrier, consisting of a long line of frowning cliffs, 
with every opening through it choked with shoals 
and sand-banks, and guarded by the rolling and tum- 
bling surges which scarcely ever rest. 

It is in a great measure owing to these great phys- 
ical differences between the two shores, that the peo- 
ple who live upon the one side, though of the same 
stock and origin with those who live upon the other, 
have become so vastly superior to them in respect to 
naval exploits and power. They are really of the same 
stock and origin, since both England and the northern 
part of France were overrun and settled by what is 
called the Scandinavian race, that is, people from Nor- 
way, Denmark, and other countries on the Baltic. 
These people were called the Northmen in the histo- 
ries of those times. Those who landed in England 
are generally termed Danes, though but a small portion 
of them came really from Denmark, They were all, 

M. ofH.— 12— 2 



i8 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

however, of the same parent stock, and possessed 
the same qualities of courage, energy, and fearless love 
of adventure and of danger which distinguish their 
descendants at the present day. They came down in 
those early times in great military hordes, and in fleets 
of piratical ships, through the German Ocean and the 
various British seas, braving every hardship and every 
imaginable danger, to find new regions to dwell in 
more genial, and fertile, and rich than their own na- 
tive northern chmes. In these days they evince the 
same energy, and endure equal privations and hard- 
ships, in hunting whales in the Pacific Ocean; in over- 
running India, and seizing its sources of wealth and 
power; or in sallying forth, whole fleets of adven- 
turers at a time, to go more than half round the globe, to 
dig for gold in California. The times and circumstances 
have changed, but the race and spirit are the same. 

Normandy takes its name from the Northmen. It 
was the province of France which the Northmen 
made peculiarly their own. They gained access to it 
from the sea by the River Seine, which flows, as it 
were, through the heart of the country. The lower 
part of this river, and the sea around its mouth, are 
much choked up with sand and gravel, which the 
waves have been for ages washing in. Their inces- 
sant industry would result in closing up the passage 
entirely, were it not that the waters of the river must 
have an outlet; and thus the current, setting outward, 



870] NORMANDY 19 

wages perpetual war with the surf and surges which 
are continually breaking in. The expeditions of the 
Northmen, however, found their way through all these 
obstructions. They ascended the river with their ships, 
and finally gained a permanent settlement in the coun- 
try. They had occupied the country for some cen- 
turies at the time when our story begins — the prov- 
ince being governed by a line of princes — almost, if 
not quite, independent sovereigns — called the Dukes 
of Normandy. 

The first Duke of Normandy, and the founder of 
the line — the chieftain who originally invaded and con- 
quered the country — was a wild and half-savage hero 
from the north, named ^llo. He is often, in history, 
called Rollo the Dane. Norway was his native land. 
He was a chieftain by birth there, and, being of a 
wild and adventurous disposition, he collected a band 
of followers, and committed with them so many 
piracies and robberies, that at length the king of the 
country expelled him. 

Rollo seems not to have considered this banishment 
as any very great calamity, since, far from interrupt- 
ing his career of piracy and plunder, it only widened 
the field on which he was to pursue it. He accord- 
ingly increased the equipment and the force of his 
fleet, enlisted more followers, and set sail across the 
northern part of the German Ocean toward the British 
shores. 



20 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Off the northwestern coast of Scotland there are 
some groups of mountainous and gloomy islands, which 
have been, in many different periods of the world, 
the refuge of fugitives and outlaws. Rollo made these 
islands his rendezvous now; and he found collected 
there many other similar spirits, who had fled to 
these lonely retreats, some on account of political dis- 
turbances in which they had become involved, and 
some on account of their crimes. Rollo's impetuous, 
ardent and self-confident character inspired them with 
new energy and zeal. They gathered around him as 
their leader. Finding his strength thus increasing, he 
formed a scheme of concentrating all the force that 
he could command, so as to organize a grand expe- 
dition to proceed to the southward, and endeavor to 
find some pleasant country which they could seize 
and settle upon, and make their own. The desperate 
adventurers around him were ready enough to enter 
into this scheme. The fleet was refitted, provisioned, 
and equipped. The expedition was organized, arms 
and munitions of war provided, and when all was 
ready they set sail. They had no definite plan in 
respect to the place of their destination, their inten- 
tion being to make themselves a home on the first 
favorable spot that they should find. 

They moved southward, cruising at first along the 
coast of Scotland, and then of England. They made 
several fruitless attempts to land on the English 



9oo] NORMANDY 21 

shores, but were every where repulsed. The time 
when these events took place was during the reign 
of Alfred the Great. Through Alfred's wise and ef- 
ficient measures the whole of his frontier had been 
put into a perfect state of defense, and Rollo found 
that there was no hope for him there. He accord- 
ingly moved on toward the Straits of Dover; but, 
before passing them, he made a descent upon the 
coast of Flanders. Here there was a country named 
Hainault. It was governed by a potentate called the 
Count of Hainault. Rollo made war upon him, de- 
feated him in battle, took him prisoner, and then 
compelled the countess his wife to raise and pay him 
an immense sum for his ransom. Thus he replenished 
his treasury by an exploit which was considered in 
those days very great and glorious. To perpetrate 
such a deed now, unless it were on a very great 
scale, would be to incur the universal reprobation of 
mankind; but Rollo, by doing it then, not only en- 
riched his coffers, but acquired a very extended and 
honorable fame. 

For some reason or other, Rollo did not attempt to 
take permanent possession of Hainault, but after re- 
ceiving his ransom money, and replenishing his ammu- 
nition and stores, he sailed away with his fleet, and, 
turning westward, he passed through the Straits of 
Dover, and cruised along the coast of France. He 
found that the country on the French side of the chan- 



22 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

nel, though equally rich and beautiful with the oppo- 
site shore, was in a very different state of defense. 
He entered the mouth of the Seine. He was embar- 
rassed at first by the difficulties of the navigation in 
entering the river; but as there was no efficient en- 
emy to oppose him, he soon triumphed over these 
difficulties, and, once fairly in the river, he found no 
difficulty in ascending to Rouen. 

In the mean time, the King of France, whose name 
was Charles, and who is generally designated in his- 
tory as Charles the Simple, began to collect an army 
to meet the invader. Rollo, however, had made him- 
self master of Rouen before Charles was able to offer 
him any effectual opposition. Rouen was already a 
strong place, but Rollo made it stronger. He enlarged 
and repaired the fortifications, built store-houses, es- 
tablished a garrison, and, in a word, made all the ar- 
rangements requisite for securing an impregnable po- 
sition for himself and his army. 

A long and obstinate war followed between Rollo 
and Charles, Rollo being almost uniformly victorious 
in the combats that took place. Rollo became more 
and more proud and imperious in proportion to his 
success. He drove the French king from port to port, 
and from field to field, until he made himself master 
of a large part of the north of France, over which he 
gradually established a regular government of his own. 
Charles struggled in vain to resist these encroach- 



912] NORMANDY 23 

ments. Rollo continually defeated him; and finally he 
shut him up and besieged him in Paris itself. At 
length Charles was compelled to enter into negotia- 
tions for peace. Rollo demanded that the large and 
rich tract on both sides of the Seine, next the sea — 
the same, in fact, that now constitutes Normandy — 
should be ceded to him and his followers for their 
permanent possession. Charles was extremely un- 
willing thus to alienate a part of his kingdom. He 
would not consent to cede it absolutely and entirely, 
so as to make it an independent realm. It should be 
a dukedom, and not a separate kingdom, so that it 
might continue still a part of his own royal domains 
— Rollo to reign over it as a duke, and to acknowl- 
edge a general allegiance to the French king. Rollo 
agreed to this. The war had now been protracted 
so long that he began himself to desire repose. It 
was more than thirty years since the time of his 
landing. 

Charles had a daughter named Giselle, and it was 
a part of the treaty of peace that she should become 
Rollo's wife. He also agreed to become a Christian. 
Thus there were, in the execution of the treaty, three 
ceremonies to be performed. First, Rollo was to do 
homage, as it was called, for his duchy; for it was 
the custom in those days for subordinate princes, who 
held their possessions of some higher and more strictly 
sovereign power, to perform certain ceremonies in the 



24 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

presence of their superior lord, which was called do- 
ing homage. These ceremonies were of various kinds 
in different countries, though they were all intended 
to express the submission of the dependent prince to 
the superior authority and power of the higher po- 
tentate of whom he held his lands. This act of hom- 
age was therefore to be performed, and next to the 
homage was to come the baptism, and after the bap- 
tism, the marriage. 

When, however, the time came for the performance 
of the first of these ceremonies, and ail the great chief- 
tains and potentates of the respective armies were 
assembled to witness it, Rollo, it was found, would not 
submit to what the customs of the French monarchy 
required. He ought to kneel before the king, and put 
his hands, clasped together, between the king's hands, 
in token of submission, and then to kiss his foot, 
which was covered with an elegantly fashioned slip- 
per on such occasions. RoIIo would do all except the 
last; but that, no remonstrances, urgencies, or persua- 
sions would induce him to consent to. 

And yet it was not a very unusual sign or token 
of political subordination to sovereign power in those 
days. The pope had exacted it even of an emperor 
a hundred years before; and it is continued by that 
dignitary to the present day, on certain state occa- 
sions; though in the case of the pope, there is em- 
broidered on the slipper which the kneeling suppliant 



912] NORMANDY 25 

kisses, a cross, so that he who humbles himself to 
this ceremony may consider, if he pleases, that it is 
that sacred symbol of the divine Redeemer's suffer- 
ings and death that he so reverently kisses, and not 
the human foot by which it is covered. 

RoUo could not be made to consent, himself, to 
kiss King Charles's foot; and, finally, the difficulty was 
compromised by his agreeing to do it by proxy. He 
ordered one of his courtiers to perform that part of 
the ceremony. The courtier obeyed, but when he 
came to lift the foot, he did it so rudely and lifted it 
so high as to turn the monarch over off his seat. 
This made a laugh, but Rollo was too powerful for 
Charles to think of resenting it. 

A few days after this Rollo was baptized in the 
cathedral church at Rouen, with great pomp and 
parade; and then, on the following week, he was 
married to Giselle. The din of war in which he had 
lived for more than thirty years was now changed 
into festivities and rejoicings. He took full and peace- 
able possession of his dukedom, and governed it for 
the remainder of his days with great wisdom, and 
lived in great prosperity. He made it, in fact, one of 
the richest and most prosperous realms in Europe, 
and laid the foundations of still higher degrees of 
greatness and power, which were gradually developed 
after his death. And this was the origin of Nor- 
mandy. 



26 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

It appears thus that this part of France was seized 
by Rollo and his Northmen partly because it was near- 
est at hand to them, being accessible from the English 
Channel through the River Seine, and partly on ac- 
count of its exceeding richness and fertility. It has 
been famous in every age as the garden of France, 
and travelers at the present day gaze upon its pic- 
turesque and beautiful scenery with the highest admi- 
ration and pleasure. And yet the scenes which are 
there presented to the view are wholly unlike those 
which constitute picturesque and beautiful rural scenery 
in England and America. In Normandy, the land is 
not inclosed. No hedges, fences, or walls break the 
continuity of the surface, but vast tracts spread 
in every direction, divided into plots and squares, 
of various sizes and forms, by the varieties of cultiva- 
tion, like a vast carpet of an irregular tesselated pat- 
tern, and varied in the color by a thousand hues of 
brown and green. Here and there vast forests extend, 
where countless thousands of trees, though ancient and 
venerable in form, stand in rows, mathematically ar- 
ranged, as they were planted centuries ago. These 
are royal demesnes, and hunting grounds, and parks 
connected with the country palaces of the kings or 
the chateaux of the ancient nobility. The cultivators 
of the soil live, not, as in America, in little farm- 
houses built along the roadsides and dotting the slopes 
of the hills, but in compact villages, consisting of 



912] NORMANDY 27 

ancient dwellings of brick or stone, densely packed 
together along a single street, from which the laborers 
issue, in picturesque dresses, men and women to- 
gether, every morning, to go miles, perhaps, to the 
scene of their daily toil. Except these villages, and 
the occasional appearance of an ancient chateau, no 
habitations are seen. The country seems a vast soli- 
tude, teeming everywhere, however, with fertility and 
beauty. The roads which traverse these scenes are 
magnificent avenues, broad, straight, continuing for 
many miles an undeviating course over the undulations 
of the land, with nothing to separate them from the 
expanse of cultivation and fruitfulness on either hand, 
but rows of ancient and venerable trees. Between 
these rows of trees the traveler sees an interminable 
vista extending both before him and behind him. In 
England, the public road winds beautifully between 
walls overhung with shrubbery, or hedge-rows, with 
stiles or gateways here and there, revealing hamlets 
or cottages, which appear and disappear in a rapid 
and endlessly varied succession, as the road mean- 
ders, like a rivulet, between its beautiful banks. In a 
word, the public highway in England is beautiful; in 
France it is grand. 

The greatest city in Normandy in modern times 
is Rouen, which is picturesquely situated on the 
Seine, half way between Paris and the sea. At the 
mouth of the Seine, or, rather, on the northern 



28 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

shore of the estuary which forms the mouth of the 
river, is a small inlet, which has been found to afford, 
on the whole, the best facilities for a harbor that can 
be found on the whole line of the coast. Even this 
little port, however, is so filled up with sand, that 
when the water recedes at low tide it leaves the ship- 
ping all aground. The inlet would, in fact, probably 
become filled up entirely were it not for artificial 
means taken to prevent it. There are locks and gate- 
ways built in such a manner as to retain a large body 
of water until the tide is down, and then these gates 
are opened, and the water is allowed to rush out all 
together, carrying with it the mud and sand which 
had begun to accumulate. This haven, being, on the 
whole, the best and most commodious on the coast, 
was called the harbor, or, as the French expressed it 
in their language, le Havre, the word havre meaning 
harbor. In fact, the name was in full, le havre de 
grace, as if the Normans considered it a matter of spe- 
cial good luck to have even such a chance of a har- 
bor as this at the mouth of their river. The English 
world have, however, dropped all except the princi- 
pal word from this long phrase of designation, and 
call the port simply Havre. 

From Rollo, the line of Dukes of Normandy con- 
tinued in uninterrupted succession down to the time 
of William, a period of about a hundred and fifty 



912] NORMANDY 29 

years. The country increased all the time in wealth, 
in population, and in prosperity. The original in- 
habitants were not, however, expelled; they remained 
as peasants, herdsmen, and agriculturists, while the 
Norman chieftains settled over them, holding severally 
large estates of land which William granted them. 
The races gradually became intermingled, though they 
continued for many centuries to evince the superior 
spirit and energy which was infused into the popula- 
tion by the Norman stock. In fact, it is thought by 
many observers that that superiority continues to the 
present day. 




CHAPTER II. 
Birth of William. 

Castle at Falalse.— Present ruins of the castle.— Scenery of the tOTrn and 
castle. — Wall and buildings. — Watch-towers.— Sentinels. — Enchanting 
prospect. — Chronological history of the Norman line.— RoUo. — William 
I., second duke.— Richard I., third duke. — Richard II., fourth duke. 

— Richard III., fifth duke.— Intrigues of Robert.— He becomes the sixth 
duke. — Robert and Henry. — William's mother.— Robert's first meeting 
with Arlotte.— He is captivated. — Robert sends for Arlotte. — Scruples of 
her father.— Arlotte sent to the castle. — Robert's affection for her. 

— Birth of William. — The nurse's prediction. — William's childhood. — He 
is a universal favorite.— Robert determines to visit the Holy Land. 

— Dangers of the journey. — Maneuvering among the chieftains. — Acoun- 
cil of nobles. — Robert announces his design. — He makes William his 
heir. — Surprise of the assembly. — The nobles do homage to William. 

— William is taken to Paris.— He is presented to the French king. 

ALTHOUGH Rouen is now very far before all the 
other cities of Normandy in point of magni- 
tude and importance, and though Rollo, in 
his conquest of the country, made it his principal 
head-quarters and his main stronghold, it did not 
continue exclusively the residence of the dukes of 
Normandy in after years. The father of William the 
Conqueror was Robert, who became subsequently 
the duke, the sixth in the line. He resided, at the 
time when William was born, in a great castle at 
(30) 



912] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 31 

Falaise. Falaise is situated west of Rouen, and it 
stands, like Rouen, at some distance from the sea. 
The castle was built upon a hill, at a little distance 
from the town. It has long since ceased to be hab- 
itable, but the ruins still remain, giving a pictur- 
esque but mournful beauty to the eminence which 
they crown. They are often visited by travelers, who 
go to see the place where the great hero and con- 
queror was born. 

The hill on which the old castle stands terminates, 
on one side, at the foot of the castle walls, in a 
precipice of rocks, and on two other sides, also, the 
ascent is too steep to be practicable for an enemy. 
On the fourth side there is a more gradual declivity, 
up which the fortress could be approached by means 
of a winding roadway. At the foot of this roadway 
was the town. The access to the castle from the 
town was defended by a ditch and draw bridge, with 
strong towers on each side of the gateway to defend 
the approach. There was a beautiful stream of water 
which meandered along through the valley, near the 
town, and, after passing it, it disappeared, winding 
around the foot of the precipice which the castle 
crowned. The castle inclosures were shut in with 
walls of stone of enormous thickness; so thick, in 
fact, they were, that some of the apartments were 
built in the body of the wall. There were various 
buildings within the inclosure. There was, in partic- 



32 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

ular, one large, square tower, several stories in height, 
built of white stone. This tower, it is said, still stands 
in good preservation. There was a chapel, also, and 
various other buildings and apartments within the 
walls, for the use of the ducal family and their nu- 
merous retinue of servants and attendants, for the stor- 
age of munitions of war, and for the garrison. There 
were watch-towers on the corners of the walls, and 
on various lofty projecting pinnacles, where solitary 
sentinels watched, the livelong day and night, for any 
approaching danger. These sentinels looked down 
on the broad expanse of richly-cultivated country, 
fields beautified with groves of trees, and with the vari- 
ous colors presented by the changing vegetation, 
while meandering streams gleamed with their silvery 
radiance among them, and hamlets of laborers and 
peasantry were scattered here and there, giving life 
and animation to the scene. 

We have said that William's father was Robert, 
the sixth Duke of Normandy, so that William him- 
self, being his immediate successor, was the seventh 
in the line. And as it is the design of these narra- 
tives not merely to amuse the reader with what is 
entertaining as a tale, but to impart substantial his- 
torical knowledge, we must prepare the way for the 
account of William's birth, by presenting a brief 
chronological view of the whole ducal line, extend- 
ing from Rollo to William. We recommend to the 



912] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 33 

reader to examine with special attention this brief 
account of William's ancestry, for the true causes 
which led to William's invasion of England can not 
be fully appreciated without thoroughly understand- 
ing certain important transactions in which some 
members of the family of his ancestors were con- 
cerned before he was born. This is particularly the 
case with the Lady Emma, who, as will be seen by 
the following summary, was the sister of the third 
duke in the line. The extraordinary and eventful 
history of her life is so intimately connected with the 
subsequent exploits of William, that it is necessary 
to relate it in full, and it becomes, accordingly, the 
subject of one of the subsequent chapters of this 
volume. 

Chronological History of the Norman Line. 

RoLLO, first Duke of Normandy. 
From A.D. 912 to A.D. 917. 

It was about 870 that Rollo was banished from 
Norway, and a few years after that, at most, that 
he landed in France. It was not, however, until 
912 that he concluded his treaty of peace with 
Charles, so as to be fully invested with the title of 
Duke of Normandy. 

He was advanced in age at this time, and, after 
spending five years in settling the affairs of his realm, 
he resigned his dukedom into the hands of his son, 

M. of H.— 13— 3 



34 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

that he might spend the remainder of his days in 
rest and peace. He died in 922. five years after his 
resignation. 

William I., second Duke of Normandy. 
From 917 to 943. 

William was Rollo's son. He began to reign, of 
course, five years before his fathers death. He had 
a quiet and prosperous reign of about twenty-five 
years, but he was assassinated at last by a political 
enemy, in 942. 

Richard 1., third Duke of Normandy. 
From 942 to 996. 

He was only ten years old, when his father was 
assassinated. He became involved in long and arduous 
wars with the King of France, which compelled him 
to call in the aid of more Northmen from the Baltic. 
His new allies, in the end, gave him as much trouble 
as the old enemy, with whom they came to help 
William contend; and he found it very hard to get 
them away. He wanted, at length, to make peace 
with the French king, and to have them leave his 
dominions; but they said, "That was not what they 
came for." 

Richard had a beautiful daughter, named Emma, 
who afterward became a very important political per- 
sonage, as will be seen more fully in a subsequent 
chapter. 



996] BIRTH OF WILLIAM ^5 

Richard died in 996, after reigning fifty-four years. 

Richard II., fourth Duke of Normandy. 
From 996 to 1026. 

Riciiard II. was the son of Richard I., and as his 
father had been engaged during his reign in conten- 
tions with his sovereign lord, the King of France, he, 
in his turn, was harassed by long-continued struggles 
with his vassals, the barons and nobles of his own 
realm. He, too, sent for Northmen to come and as- 
sist him. During his reign there was a great contest 
in England between the Saxons and the Danes, and 
Ethelred, who was the Saxon claimant to the throne, 
came to Normandy, and soon afterward married the 
Lady Emma, Richard's sister. The particulars of this 
event, from which the most momentous consequences 
were afterward seen to flow, will be given in full in 
a future chapter. Richard died in 1026. He left two 
sons, Richard and Robert. William the Conqueror 
was the son of the youngest, and was born two years 
before this Richard II. died. 

Richard III., fifth Duke of Normandy. 
From 1026 to 1028. 

He was the oldest brother, and, of course, suc- 
ceeded to the dukedom. His brother Robert was 
then only a baron — his son William, afterward the 
Conqueror, being then about two years old. Robert 
was .very ambitious and aspiring, and eager to get 



36 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

possession of the dukedom himself. He adopted 
every possible means to circumvent and supplant his 
brother, and, as is supposed, shortened his days by 
the anxiety and vexation which he caused him; for 
Richard died suddenly and mysteriously only two 
years after his accession. It was supposed by some, 
in fact, that he was poisoned, though there was 
never any satisfactory proof of this. 

Robert, sixth Duke of Normandy. 
From 1028 to 1035. 

Robert, of course, succeeded his brother, and 
then, with the characteristic inconsistency of selfish- 
ness and ambition, he employed all the power of 
his realm in helping the King of France to subdue 
his younger brother, who was evincing the same 
spirit of seditiousness and insubmission that he had 
himself displayed. His assistance was of great im- 
portance to King Henry; it, in fact, decided the con- 
test in his favor; and thus one younger brother was 
put down in the commencement of his career of 
turbulence and rebellion, by another who had suc- 
cessfully accomplished a precisely similar course of 
crime. King Henry was very grateful for the ser- 
vice thus rendered, and was ready to do all in his 
power, at all times, to co-operate with Robert in 
the plans which the latter might form. Robert died 
in 1035, when William was about eleven years old. 



I024] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 37 

And here we close this brief summary of the 
history of the ducal line, as we have already passed 
the period of William's birth; and we return, accord- 
ingly, to give in detail some of the particulars of 
that event. 

Although the dukes of Normandy were very pow- 
erful potentates, reigning, as they did, almost in 
the character of independent sovereigns, over one of 
the richest and most populous territories of the 
globe, and though William the Conqueror was the 
son of one of them, his birth was nevertheless very 
ignoble. His mother was not the wife of Robert his 
father, but a poor peasant girl, the daughter of an 
humble tanner of Falaise; and, indeed, William's 
father, Robert, was not himself the duke at this time, 
but a simple baron, as his father was still living. It 
was not even certain that he ever would be the 
duke, as his older brother, who, of course, would 
come before him, was also then alive. Still, as the 
son and prospective heir of the reigning duke, his 
rank was very high. 

The circumstances of Robert's first acquaintance 
with the tanner's daughter were these. He was one 
day returning home to the castle from some expedi- 
tion on which he had been sent by his father, when 
he saw a group of peasant girls standing on the 
margin of the brook, washing clothes. They were 



38 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

barefooted, and their dress was in other respects dis- 
arranged. There was one named Arlotte,* the daughter 
of a tanner of the town, whose countenance and fig- 
ure seem to have captivated the young baron. He 
gazed at her with admiration and pleasure as he rode 
along. Her complexion was fair, her eyes full and 
blue, and the expression of her countenance was 
frank, and open, and happy. She was talking joy- 
ously and merrily with her companions, as Robert 
passed, little dreaming of the conspicuous place on 
the page of English history which she was to occupy, 
in all future time, in connection with the gay horse- 
man who was riding by. 

The etiquette of royal and ducal palaces and castles 
in those days, as now, forbade that a noble of such 
lofty rank should marry a peasant girl. Robert could 
not, therefore, have Arlotte for his wife; but there 
was nothing to prevent his proposing her coming to 
the castle and living with him — that is, nothing but 
the law of God, and this was an authority to which 
dukes and barons in the Middle Ages were accus- 
tomed to pay very little regard. There was not even 
a public sentiment to forbid this, for a nobility like 
that of England and France, in the Middle Ages, stands 
so far above all the mass of society as to be scarcely 
amenable at all to the ordinary restrictions and obliga- 



* Her name is spelled variously, Arlette, Arlotte, Harlotte, and in other 
ways. 



1024] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 39 

tions of social life. And even to the present day, in 
those countries where dukes exist, public sentiment 
seems to tolerate pretty generally whatever dukes see 
fit to do. 

Accordingly, as soon as Robert had arrived at the 
castle, he sent a messenger from his retinue of at- 
tendants down to the village, to the father of Arlotte, 
proposing that she should come to the castle. The 
father seems to have had some hesitation in respect 
to his duty. It is said that he had a brother who 
was a monk, or rather hermit, who lived a life of 
reading, meditation, and prayer, in a solitary place 
not far from Falaise. Arlotte's father sent immediately 
to this religious recluse for his spiritual counsel. The 
monk replied that it was right to comply with the 
wishes of so great a man, whatever they might be. 
The tanner, thus relieved of all conscientious scruples 
on the subject, by this high religious authority, and 
rejoicing in the opening tide of prosperity and dis- 
tinction which he foresaw for his family through 
the baron"s love, robed and decorated his daughter, 
like a lamb for the sacrifice, and sent her to the 
castle. 

Arlotte had one of the rooms assigned her, which 
was built in the thickness of the wall. It communi- 
cated by a door with the other apartments and in- 
closures within the area, and there were narrow win- 
dows in the masonry without, through which she 



40 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

could look out over the broad expanse of beautiful 
fields and meadows which were smiling below. Rob- 
ert seems to have loved her with sincere and strong 
affection, and to have done all in his. power to make 
her happy. Her room, however, could not have been 
very sumptuously furnished, although she was the 
favorite in a ducal castle, — at least so far as we can 
judge from the few glimpses we get of the interior 
through the ancient chroniclers' stories. One story is, 
that when William was born, his first exploit was to 
grasp a handful of straw, and to hold it so tenaciously 
in his little fist that the nurse could scarcely take it 
away. The nurse was greatly delighted with this in- 
fantile prowess; she considered it an omen, and pre- 
dicted that the babe would some day signalize himself 
by seizing and holding great possessions. The predic- 
tion would have been forgotton if William had not 
become the conqueror of England at a future day. 
As it was, it was remembered and recorded; and it 
suggests to our imagination a very different picture 
of the conveniences and comforts of Arlotte's chamber, 
from those presented to the eye in ducal palaces now, 
where carpets of velvet silence the tread on marble 
floors, and favorites repose under silken canopies on 
beds of down. 

The babe was named William, and he was a great 
favorite with his father. He was brought up at Fal- 
aise. Two years after his birth, Robert's father died, 



I029] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 41 

and his oldest brother, Richard III,, succeeded to the 
ducal throne. In two years more, which years were 
spent in contention between the brothers, Richard 
also died, and then Robert himself came into posses- 
sion of the castle in his own name, reigning there 
over all the cities and domains of Normandy. 

William was, of course, now about four years old. 
He was a bright and beautiful boy, and he grew 
more and more engaging every year. His father, in- 
stead of neglecting and disowning him, as it might 
have been supposed he would do, took a great deal 
of pride and pleasure in witnessing the gradual de- 
velopment of his powers and his increasing attract- 
iveness, and he openly acknowledged him as his son. 

In fact, William was a universal favorite about the 
castle. When he was five and six years old he was 
very fond of playing the soldier. He would marshal 
the other boys of the castle, his playmates, into a 
little troop, and train them around the castle Enclosures, 
just as ardent and aspiring boys do with their com- 
rades now. He possessed a certain vicacity and spirit 
too, which gave him, even then, a great ascendency 
over his playfellows. He invented their plays; he led 
them in their mischief; he settled their disputes. In 
a word, he possessed a temperament and character 
which enabled him very easily and strongly to hold 
the position which his rank as son of the lord of the 
castle so naturally assigned him. 



42 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

A few years thus passed away, when, at length, 
Robert conceived the design of making a pilgrimage 
to the Holy Land. This was a plan, not of humble- 
minded piety, but of ambition for fame. To make a 
pilgrimage to the Holy Land was a romantic achieve- 
ment that covered whoever accomplished it with a 
sort of sombre glory, which, in the case of a prince 
or potentate, mingled with, and hallowed and ex- 
alted, his military renown. Robert determined on 
making the pilgrimage. It was a distant and danger- 
ous journey. In fact, the difficulties and dangers of 
the way were perhaps what chiefly imparted to the 
enterprise its romance, and gave it its charms. It 
was customary for kings and rulers, before setting 
out, to arrange all the affairs of their kingdoms, to 
provide a regency to govern during their absence, 
and to determine upon their successors, so as to pro- 
vide for the very probable contingency of their not 
living to return. 

As soon, therefore, as Robert announced his plan 
of a pilgrimage, men's minds were immediately turned 
to the question of the succession. Robert had never 
been married, and he had consequently no son who 
was entitled to succeed him. He had two brothers, 
and also a cousin, and some other relatives, who had 
claims to the succession. These all began to maneu- 
ver among the chieftains and nobles, each endeavor- 
ing to prepare the way for having his own claims ad- 



io3i] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 43 

vanced, while Robert himself was secretly determining 
that the little William should be his heir. He said noth- 
ing about this, however, but he took care to magnify 
the importance of his little son in every way, and to 
bring him as much as possible into public notice. 
William, on his part, possessed so much personal 
beauty, and so many juvenile accomplishments, that 
he became a great favorite with all the nobles, and 
chieftains, and knights who saw him, sometimes at his 
father's castle, and sometimes away from home, in 
their own fortresses or towns, where his father took 
him, from time to time in his train. 

At length, when affairs were ripe for their con- 
summation, Duke Robert called together a grand coun- 
cil of all the subordinate dukes, and earls, and barons 
of his realm, to make known to them the plan of his 
pilgrimage. They came together from all parts of Nor- 
mandy, each in a splendid cavalcade, and attended by 
an armed retinue of retainers. When the assembly 
had been convened, and the preliminary forms and 
ceremonies had been disposed of, Robert announced 
his grand design. 

As soon as he had concluded, one of the nobles, 
whose name and title was Guy, count of Burgundy, 
rose and addressed the duke in reply. He was sorry, 
he said, to hear that the duke, his cousin, entertained 
such a plan. He feared for the safety of the realm 
when the chief ruler should be gone. All the estates 



44 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

of the realm, he said, the barons, the knights, the 
chieftains and soldiers of every degree, would be all 
without a head. 

"Not so," said Robert, "I will leave you a mas- 
ter in my place." Then, pointing to the beautiful boy 
by his side, he added, " 1 have a little fellow here, 
who, though he is little now, 1 acknowledge, will 
grow bigger by and by, with God's grace, and 1 have 
great hopes that he will become a brave and gallant 
man. 1 present him to you, and from this time forth 
I give him seisin* of the Duchy of Normandy as my 
known and acknowledged heir. And 1 appoint Alan, 
duke of Brittany, governor of Normandy in my name, 
until I shall return, and in case I shall not return, in 
the name of William, my son, until he shall become 
of manly age." 

The assembly was taken wholly by surprise at 
this announcement. Alan, duke of Brittany, who was 
one of the chief claimants to the succession, was 
pleased with the honor conferred upon him in making 
him at once the governor of the realm, and was in- 
clined to prefer the present certainty of governing at 
once in the name of others, to the remote contin- 
gency of reigning in his own. The other claimants 
to the inheritance were confounded by the suddenness 
of the emergency, and knew not what to say or do. 



* Seizin, an ancient feudal term denoting the inducting of a 
party to a legal possession of his right. 



I033] BIRTH OF WILLIAM 45 

The rest of the assembly were pleased with the ro- 
mance of having the beautiful boy for their feudal 
sovereign. The duke saw at once that every thing 
was favorable to the accomplishment of his design. 
He took the lad in his arms, kissed him, and held 
him out in view of the assembly. William gazed 
around upon the panoplied warriors before him with 
a bright and beaming eye. They knelt down as by 
a common accord to do him homage, and then took 
the oath of perpetual allegiance and fidelity to his 
cause. 

Robert thought, however, that it would not be 
quite prudent to leave his son himself in the custody 
of these his rivals, so he took him with him to Paris 
when he set out upon his pilgrimage, with a view of 
establishing him there, in the court of Henry, the 
French king, while he should himself be gone. Young 
William was presented to the French king, on a day 
set apart for the ceremony, with great pomp and pa- 
rade. The king held a special court to receive him. 
He seated himself on his throne in a grand apartment 
of his palace, and was surrounded by his nobles and 
officers of state, all magnificently dressed for the oc- 
casion. At the proper time, Duke Robert came in, 
dressed in his pilgrim's garb, and leading young 
William by the hand. His attendant pilgrim knights 
accompanied him. Robert led the boy to the feet of 
their common sovereign, and, kneeling there, ordered 



46 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

William to kneel too, to do homage to the king. 
King Henry received him very graciously. He em- 
braced him, and promised to receive him into his 
court, and to take the best possible care of him while 
his father was away. The courtiers were very much 
struck with the beauty and noble bearing of the boy. 
His countenance beamed with an animated, but yet 
very serious expression, as he was somewhat awed 
by the splendor of the scene around him. He was 
himself then nine years old. 




CHAPTER III. 

The Accession. 

Robert departs on his pilgrimage. — He visits Rome and Constantinople- 
Robert's illness.— I,etter bearers. — Death of Robert.— Claimarts to the 
crown. — Theroulde. — William's military education. — The Earl of Arques. 

— William proclaimed duke. — The pilgrim knighi.s. — They embrace 
William's cause.— Debates in the council on the propriety of William's 
return. — William's return to Normandy. — It.s effects. — William's accom- 
plishments. — Impression upon the army. — Claimants in the field. — Iron 
rule of the nobles. — Almost a quarrel.— Interview between William and 
Henry.— Henry's demand. — William's indignation. — Henry destroys 
one of William's castles. — Difficulties which followed. — War with 
Henry. — William rescues Falaise. — William received with acclamations. 

— Punishment of the governor. — The Earl of Arques. — Advance of 
Henry.- - A dangerous defile. — Henry's order of march. — William's am- 
buscade. — Its success. — Pretended flight of the Normans. — Disarray 
of the French. — Rout of the French. — William's embassage to Henry. 

— The castle at Arques taken. — William crowned at Falaise. 

AFTER Spending a little time at Paris, Robert 
took leave of the king, and of William his son, 
and went forth, with a train of attendant 
knights, on his pilgrimage. He had a great variety 
of adventures, which cannot be related here, as it is 
the history of the son, and not of the father, which is 
the subject of this narrative. Though he traveled 
strictly as a pilgrim, it was still with great pomp and 

(47) 



48 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

parade. After visiting Rome, and accomplishing va- 
rious services and duties connected w^ith his pilgrim- 
age there, he laid aside his pilgrim's garb, and, 
assuming his proper rank as a great Norman chief- 
tain, he went to Constantinople, where he made a 
great display of his wealth and magnificence. At 
the time of the grand procession, for example, by 
which he entered the city of Constantinople, he rode 
a mule, which, besides being gorgeously caparisoned, 
had shoes of gold instead of iron; and these shoes 
were purposely attached so slightly to the hoofs, that 
they were shaken off as the animal walked along, to 
be picked up by the populace. This was to impress 
them with grand ideas of the rider's wealth and splen- 
dor. After leaving Constantinople, Robert resumed 
his pilgrim's garb, and went on toward the Holy 
Land. 

The journey, however, did not pass without the 
usual vicissitudes of so long an absence and so dis- 
tant a pilgrimage. At one time Robert was sick, and, af- 
ter hngering for some time in a fever, he so far recovered 
his strength as to be borne on a litter by the strength 
of other men, though he could not advance himself, 
either on horseback or on foot; and as for traveling 
carriages, there had been no such inventions in those 
days. They made arrangements, therefore, for carry- 
ing the duke on a litter. There were sixteen Moorish 
slaves employed to serve as his bearers. This com- 



I035] THE ACCESSION 49 

pany was divided into sets, four in each, the sev- 
eral sets taking the burden in rotation. Robert and 
his attendant knights looked down with great con- 
tempt on these black pagan slaves. One day the 
cavalcade was met by a Norman, who was returning 
home to Normandy after having accomplished his pil- 
grimage. He asked Duke Robert if he had any mes- 
sage to send to his friends at home. "Yes," said he; 
"tell them you saw me here, on my way to Paradise, 
carried by sixteen Demons." 

Robert reached Jerusalem, and set out on his re- 
turn; and soon after rumors came back to Paris that 
he had died on his way home. The accounts of the 
manner of his death were contradictory and uncer- 
tain; but the fact was soon made sure, and the news 
produced every where a great sensation. It soon ap- 
peared that the brothers and cousins of Robert, who 
had claimed the right to succeed him in preference to 
his son William, had only suspended their claims — 
they had not abandoned them. They began to gather 
their forces, each in his own separate domain, and 
to prepare to take the field, if necessary, in vindi- 
cation of what they considered their rights to the in- 
heritance. In a word, their oaths of fealty to Wil- 
liam were all forgotten, and each claimant was intent 
only on getting possession himself of the ducal crown. 

In the mean time, William himself was at Paris, 
and only eleven years of age. He had been receiving 

^ M. ofH.— IJ— 4 



so WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

a careful education there, and was a very prepos- 
sessing and accomplished young prince. Still, he was 
yet but a mere boy. He had been under the care of 
a military tutor, whose name was Theroulde. The- 
roulde was a veteran soldier, who had long been in 
the employ of the King of France. He took great in- 
terest in his young pupil's progress. He taught him 
to ride and to practice all the evolutions of horseman- 
ship which were required by the tactics of those days. 
He trained him, too, in the use of arms, the bow 
and arrow, the javelin, the sword, the spear, and ac- 
customed him to wear, and to exercise in, the armor 
of steel with which warriors were used, in those days, 
to load themselves in going into battle. Young princes 
like William had suits of this armor made for them 
of small size, which they were accustomed to wear in 
private in their military exercises and trainings, and to 
appear in, publicly, on great occasions of state. These 
dresses of iron were of course very heavy and un- 
comfortable, but the young princes and dukes were, 
nevertheless, very proud and happy to wear them. 

While William was thus engaged in pursuing his 
military education in Paris, several competitors for his 
dukedom immediately appeared in Normandy and took 
the field. The strongest and most prominent among 
them was the Earl of Arques. His name was Wil- 
liam, too, but, to distinguish him from the young duke, 
we shall call him Arques. He was a brother of Rob- 



I035] THE ACCESSION 51 

ert, and maintained that, as Robert left no lawful 
heir, he was indisputably entitled to succeed him. 
Arques assembled his forces and prepared to take 
possession of the country. 

It will be recollected that Robert, when he left 
Normandy in setting out on his pilgrimage, had ap- 
pointed a nobleman named Alan to act as regent, or 
governor of the country, until he should return; or, 
in case he should never return, until William should 
become of age. Alan had a council of officers, called 
the council of regency, with whose aid he managed 
the administration of the government. This council, 
with Alan at their head, proclaimed young William 
duke, and immediately began to act in his name. 
When they found that the Earl of Arques was pre- 
paring to seize the government, they began to assemble 
their forces also, and thus both sides prepared for 
war. 

Before they actually commenced hostilities, how- 
ever, the pilgrim knights who had accompanied Rob- 
ert on his pilgrimage, and who had been journeying 
home slowly by themselves ever since their leader's 
death, arrived in Normandy. These were chieftains 
and nobles of high rank and influence, and each of 
the contending parties were eager to have them join 
their side. Besides the actual addition of force which 
these men could bring to the cause they should es- 
pouse, the moral support they would give to it was 



52 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

a very important consideration. Their having been 
on this long and dangerous pilgrimage invested them 
with a sort of romantic and religious interest in the 
minds of all the people, who looked up to them, 
in consequence of it, with a sort of veneration and 
awe; and then, as they had been selected by Robert 
to accompany him on his pilgrimage, and had gone 
on the long and dangerous journey with him, con- 
tinuing to attend upon him until he died, they were 
naturally regarded as his most faithful and confidential 
friends. For these and similar reasons, it was obvi- 
ous that the cause which they should espouse in the 
approaching contest would gain a large accession of 
moral power by their adhesion. 

As soon as they arrived in Normandy, rejecting 
all proposals from other quarters, they joined young 
William's cause with the utmost promptitude and de- 
cision. Alan received them at once into his councils. 
An assembly was convened, and the question was 
discussed whether William should be sent for to 
come to Normandy. Some argued that he was yet a 
mere boy, incapable of rendering them any real 
service in the impending contest, while he would be 
exposed, more perhaps than they themselves, to be 
taken captive or slain. They thought it best, there- 
fore, that he should remain, for the present, in Paris, 
under the protection of the French king. 

Others, on the other hand, contended that the in- 



I035] THE ACCESSION" S3 

fluence of William's presence, boy as he was, would 
animate and inspire all his followers, and awaken 
everywhere, throughout the country, a warm inter- 
est in his cause; that his very tenderness and help- 
lessness would appeal strongly to every generous 
heart, and that his youthful accomplishments and per- 
sonal charms would enlist thousands in his favor, who 
would forget, and perhaps abandon him, if he kept 
away. Besides, it was by no means certain that he 
was so safe as some might suppose, in King Henry's 
custody and power. King Henry might himself lay 
claims to the vacant duchy, with a view of bestow- 
ing it upon some favorite of his own, in which case 
he might confine young William in one of his castles, 
in an honorable, but still rigid and hopeless captivity, 
or treacherously destroy his life by the secret admin- 
istration of poison. 

These latter counsels prevailed. Alan and the 
nobles who were with him sent an embassage to the 
court of King Henry to bring WiHiam home. 
Henry made objections and difficulties. This alarmed 
the nobles. They feared that it would prove true that 
Henry himself had designs on Normandy. They 
sent a new embassage, with demands more urgent 
than before. Finally, after some time spent in nego- 
tiations and delays. King Henry concluded to yield, 
and William set out on his return. He was now 
about twelve or thirteen years old. His military tu- 



54 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

tor, Theroulde, accompanied him, and he was at- 
tended likewise by the embassadors whom Alan had 
sent for him, and by a strong escort for his protec- 
tion by the way. He arrived in safety at Alan's 
head-quarters. 

William's presence in Normandy had the effect 
which had been anticipated from it. It awakened 
everywhere a great deal of enthusiasm in his favor. 
The soldiers were pleased to see how handsome their 
young commander was in form, and how finely he 
could ride. He was, in fact, a very superior eques- 
trian for one so young. He was more fond, even 
than other boys, of horses; and as, of course, the 
most graceful and the fleetest horses which could be 
found were provided for him, and as Theroulde had 
given him the best and most complete instruction, he 
made a fine display as he rode swiftly through the 
camp, followed by veteran nobles, splendidly dressed 
and mounted, and happy to be in his train, while 
his own countenance beamed with a radiance in 
which native intelligence and beauty were heightened 
by the animation and excitement of pride and pleas- 
ure. In respect to the command of the army, of 
course the real power remained in Alan's hands, but 
every thing was done in William's name; and in re- 
spect to all external marks and symbols of sover- 
eignty, the beautiful boy seemed to possess the supreme 
command; and as the sentiment of loyalty is always 



I036] THE ACCESSION ^S 

the strongest when the object which calls for the 
exercise of it is most helpless and frail, Alan found 
his power very much increased when he had this 
beautiful boy to exhibit as the true and rightful heir, 
in whose name and for whose benefit all his power 
was held. 

Still, however, the country was very far from be- 
coming settled. The Earl of Arques kept the field, 
and other claimants, too, strengthened themselves in 
their various castles and towns, as if preparing to re- 
sist. In those days, every separate district of the 
country was almost a separate realm, governed by 
its own baron, who lived, with his retainers, within 
his own castle walls, and ruled the land around him 
with a rod of iron. These barons were engaged in 
perpetual quarrels among themselves, each plundering 
the dominions of the rest, or making hostile incur- 
sions into the territories of a neighbor to revenge 
some real or imaginary wrong. This turbulence and 
disorder prevailed everywhere throughout Normandy 
at the time of William's return. In the general con- 
fusion, William's government scarcely knew who 
were his friends or his enemies. At one time, when 
a deputation was sent to some of the barons in Wil- 
liam's name, summoning them to come with their 
forces and join his standard, as they were in duty 
bound to do, they felt independent enough to send 
back word to him that they had "too much to do 



56 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

in settling their own quarrels to be able to pay any 
attention to his." 

In the course of a year or two, moreover, and 
while his own realm continued in this unsettled and 
distracted state, William became involved in what 
was almost a quarrel with King Henry himself. When 
he was fifteen years old, which was two or three 
years after his return from Paris to Normandy, Henry 
sent directions to William to come to a certain town, 
called Evreux, situated about half way between 
Falaise and Paris, and just within the confines of 
Normandy, to do homage to him there for his duchy. 
There was some doubt among William's counselors 
whether it would be most prudent to obey or diso- 
bey this command. They finally concluded that it 
was best to obey. Grand preparations were ac- 
cordingly made for the expedition; and, when all was 
ready, the young duke was conducted in great state, 
and with much pomp and parade, to meet his sovereign. 

The interview between William and his sovereign, 
and the ceremonies connected with it, lasted some 
days, in the course of this time, William remained 
at Evreux, and was, in some sense, of course, in 
Henry's power. William, having been so long in 
Henry's court as a mere boy, accustomed all the 
time to look up to and obey Henry as a father, re- 
garded him somewhat in that light now, and ap- 
proached him with great deference and respect. Henry 



1039] THE ACCESSION 57 

received him in a somewhat haughty and imperious 
manner, as if he considered him still under the same 
subjection as heretofore. 

William had a fortress or castle on the frontiers of 
his dukedom, toward Henry's dominions. The name 
of the castle was Tellieres, and the governor of it 
was a faithful old soldier named De Crespin. Wil- 
liam's father, Robert, had intrusted ,'De Crespin with 
the command of the castle, and given him a garrison 
to defend it. Henry now began to make complaint 
to William in respect to this castle. The garrison, 
he said, were continually making incursions into his 
dominions. William replied that he was very sorry 
that there was cause for such a complaint. He would 
inquire into it, and if the fact were really so, he 
would have the evil immediately corrected. Henry 
replied that that was not sufficient. "You must de- 
liver up the castle to me," he said, "to be destroyed." 
Wilham was indignant at such a demand; but he was 
so accustomed to obey implicitly whatever King Henry 
might require of him, that he sent the order to have 
the castle surrendered. 

When, however, the order came to De Crespin, 
the governor of the castle, he refused to obey it. 
The fortress, he said, had been committed to his 
charge by Robert, duke of Normandy, and he should 
not give it up to the possession of any foreign 
power. When this answer was reported to William 



58 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

and his counselors, it made them still more indig- 
nant than before at the domineering tyranny of the 
command, and more disposed than ever to refuse 
obedience to it. Still William was in a great meas- 
ure in the monarch's power. On cool reflection, 
they perceived that resistance would then be vain. 
New and more authoritative orders were accord- 
ingly issued for the surrender of the castle. De Cres- 
pin now obeyed. He gave up the keys and with- 
drew with his garrison. William was then allowed 
to leave Evreux and return home, and soon after- 
ward the castle was razed to the ground. 

This affair produced, of course, a great deal of 
animosity and irritation between the governments of 
France and Normandy; and where such a state of 
feeling exists between two powers separated only by 
an imaginary line running through a populous and 
fertile country, aggressions from one side and from 
the other are sure to follow. These are soon suc- 
ceeded by acts of retaliation and revenge, leading, 
in the end, to an open and general war. It was so 
now. Henry marched his armies into Normandy, 
seized towns, destroyed castles, and, where he was 
resisted by the people, he laid waste the country 
with fire and sword. He finally laid siege to the 
very castle of Falaise. 

William and his government were for a time 
nearly overwhelmed with the tide of disaster and 



I039] THE ACCESSION 59 

calamity. The tide turned, however, at length, and 
the fortune of war inclined in their favor, William 
rescued the town and castle of Falaise; it was in a 
very remarkable manner, too, that this exploit was 
accomphshed. The fortress was closely invested with 
Henry's forces, and was on the very eve of being 
surrendered. The story is, that Henry had offered 
bribes to the governor of the castle to give it up to 
him, and that the governor had agreed to receive 
them and to betray his trust. While he was prepar- 
ing to do so, William arrived at the head of a resolute 
and determined band of Normans. They came with 
so sudden an onset upon the army of besiegers as 
to break up their camp, and force them to abandon 
the siege. The people of the town and the garrison 
of the castle were extremely rejoiced to be thus res- 
cued, and when they came to learn through whose 
instrumentality they had been saved, and saw the 
beautiful horseman whom they remembered as a gay 
and happy child playing about the precincts of the 
castle, they were perfectly intoxicated with delight. 
They filled the air with the wildest acclamations, and 
welcomed William back to the home of his child- 
hood with manifestations of the most extravagant 
joy. As to the traitorous governor, he was dealt 
with very leniently. Perhaps the general feeling of 
joy awakened emotions of leniency and forgiveness 
in William's mind, — or perhaps the proof against the 



6o WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

betrayer was incomplete. They did not, therefore, 
talte his hfe, which would have been justly forfeited, 
according to the military ideas of the times, if he 
had been really guilty. They deprived him of his 
command, confiscated his property, and let him go 
free. 

After this, WiUiam's forces continued for some time 
to make head successfully against those of the King of 
France; but then, on the other hand, the danger from 
his uncle, the Earl of Arques, increased. The earl took 
advantage of the difficulty and danger in which Wil- 
liam was involved in his contests with King Henry and 
began to organize his forces again. He fortified him- 
self in his castle at Arques, and was collecting a large 
force there. Arques was in the northeastern part of 
Normandy, near the sea, where the ruins of the ancient 
castle still remain. The earl built an almost impreg- 
nable tower for himself on the summit of the rock on 
which the castle stood, in a situation so inaccessible 
that he thought he could retreat to it in any emergency, 
with a few chosen followers, and bid defiance to any 
assault. In and around this castle the earl had got 
quite a large army together. William advanced with 
his forces, and, encamping around them, shut them in. 
King Henry, who was then in a distant part of Nor- 
mandy, began to put his army in motion to come to 
the rescue of Arques. 

Things being in this state, William left a strong 



I039] THE ACCESSION 6i 

body of men to continue the investment and siege of 
Arques, and went off himself, at the head of the re- 
mainder of his force, to intercept Henry on his advance. 
The result was a battle and a victory, gained under 
circumstances so extraordinary, that William, young as 
he was, acquired by his exploits a brilliant and uni- 
versal renown. 

It seems that Henry, in his progress to Arques, had 
to pass through a long and gloomy valley, which 
was bounded on either side by precipitous and forest- 
covered hills. Through this dangerous defile the long 
train of Henry's army was advancing, arranged and 
marshaled in such an order as seemed to afford the 
greatest hope of security in case of an attack. First 
came the vanguard, a strong escort, formed of heavy 
bodies of soldiery, armed with battle-axes and pikes, 
and other similar weapons, the most efficient then 
known. Immediately after this vanguard came a long 
train of baggage, the tents, the provisions, the stores, 
and all the munitions of war. The baggage was fol- 
lowed by a great company of servants — the cooks, 
the carters, the laborers, the camp followers of every 
description — a throng of non-combatants, useless, of 
course, in a battle, and a burden on a march, and 
yet the inseparable and indispensable attendant of an 
army, whether at rest or in motion. After this throng 
came the main body of the army, with the king, es- 
corted by his guard of honor, at the head of it. An 



62 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

active and efficient corps of lancers and men-at-arms 
brought up the rear. 

William conceived the design of drawing this 
cumbrous and unmanageable body into an ambuscade. 
He selected, accordingly, the narrowest and most 
dangerous part of the defile for the purpose, and 
stationed vast numbers of Norman soldiers, armed 
with javelins and arrows, upon the slopes of the hill 
on either side, concealing them all carefully among 
the thickets and rocks. He then marshaled the re- 
mainder of his forces in the valley, and sent them up 
the valley to meet Henry as he was descending. This 
body of troops, which was to advance openly to meet 
the king, as if they constituted the whole of Wil- 
liam's force, were to fight a pretended battle with the 
vanguard, and then to retreat, in hopes to draw the 
whole train after them, in a pursuit so eager as to 
throw them into confusion; and then, when the col- 
umn, thus disarranged, should reach the place of am- 
buscade, the Normans were to come down upon them 
suddenly from their hiding-places, and complete their 
discomfiture. 

The plan was well laid, and wisely and bravely 
executed; and it was most triumphantly successful in 
its results. The vanguard of Henry's army were de- 
ceived by the pretended flight of the Norman detach- 
ment. They supposed, too, that it constituted the 
whole body of their enemies. They pressed forward, 



io4o] THE ACCESSION 63 

therefore, with great exultation and eagerness, to pur- 
sue them. News of the attack and of the apparent 
repulse with which the French soldiers had met it, 
passed rapidly along the valley, producing every- 
where the wildest excitement, and an eager desire to 
press forward to the scene of conflict. The whole 
valley was filled with shouts and outcries; baggage 
was abandoned, that those who had charge of it 
might hurry on; men ran to and fro for tidings, or 
ascended eminences to try to see. Horsemen drove 
at full speed from front to rear, and from rear on to 
the front again; orders and counter orders were given, 
which nobody would understand or attend to in the 
general confusion and din. In fact, the universal at- 
tention seemed absorbed in one general and eager de- 
sire to press forward with headlong impetuosity to 
the scene of victory and pursuit which they supposed 
was enacting in the van. 

The army pressed on in this confused and excited 
manner until they reached the place of ambuscade. 
They went on, too, through this narrow passage, as 
heedlessly as ever; and, when the densest and most 
powerful portion of the column was crowding through, 
they were suddenly thunderstruck by the issuing of 
a thousand weapons from the heights and thickets 
above them on either hand — a dreadful shower of 
arrows, javelins, and spears, which struck down 
hundreds in a moment, and overwhelmed the rest 



64 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

with astonishment and terror. As soon as this first 
discharge had been effected, the concealed enemy 
came pouring down the sides of the mountain, spring- 
ing out from a thousand hiding-places, as if suddenly 
brought into being by some magic power. The dis- 
comfiture of Henry's forces was complete and irre- 
mediable. The men fled every where in utter dismay, 
trampling upon and destroying one another, as they 
crowded back in terrified throngs to find some place 
of safety up the valley. There, after a day or two, 
Henry got together the scattered remains of his army, 
and established something like a camp. 

It is a curious illustration of the feudal feelings of 
those times in respect to the gradation of ranks, or 
else of the extraordinary modesty and good sense of 
William's character, that he assumed no airs of supe- 
riority over his sovereign, and showed no signs of 
extravagant elation after this battle. He sent a re- 
spectful embassage to Henry, recognizing his own 
acknowledged subjection to Henry as his sovereign, 
and imploring his protection ! He looked confidently 
to him, he said, for aid and support against his re- 
bellious subjects. 

Though he thus professed, however, to rely on 
Henry, he really trusted most, it seems, to his own 
right arm; for, as soon as this battle was fairly over, 
and while the whole country was excited with the 
astonishing brilliancy of the exploit performed by so 



i04o] THE ACCESSION 65 

young a man, William mounted his horse, and calling 
upon those to follow him who wished to do so, he 
rode at full speed, at the head of a small cavalcade, 
to the castle of Arques. His sudden appearance here, 
with the news of the victory, inspirited the besiegers 
to such a degree that the castle was soon taken. He 
allowed the rebel earl to escape, and thus, perhaps, 
all the more eflectually put an end to the rebellion. 
He was now in peaceable possession of his realm. 

He went in triumph to Falaise, where he was 
solemnly crowned with great ceremony and parade, 
and all Normandy was filled with congratulations and 
rejoicings. 




M. ofH.— 1»— 5 



CHAPTER IV. 

William's Reign in Normandy. 

A lapse of twenty years.— Conspiracy of Guy of Burgundy.— The fool or jes- 
ter.— Meetings of the conspirators.— Final plans of the conspirators. — 
Discovered by Galet.— Galet sets out in search of William. — He finds 
him asleep. — William's flight. — His narrow escape. — William is recog- 
nized. — Hubert's castle.— Hubert's sons. — Pursuit of the conspirators. 

— Defeat of the rebels.— Their punishment. — Curious incident.— Coats 
of armor.— Origin of heraldry. — RoUo de Tesson. — Keeping both oaths. 

— Changing sides. — Character of the ancient chieftains. — Their love of 
war. — Ancient castles. — Their interior construction. — Nothing respecta- 
ble for the nobility but war. — Rebellious. — In.sulting allusion to Wil- 
liam's birth. — The ambuscade. — Its failure.— Insults of {the garrison. — 
Indignation of William. — William's campaign in France.— His popu- 
larity. — William's prowess.- True nature of courage.— An ambuscade. 

— William's bravery. — William's victory. — Applause of the French 
army. — William firmly seated on his throne. — His new projects. 

FROM the time of William's obtaining quiet pos- 
session of his realm to his invasion of Eng- 
land, a long period intervened. There was a 
lapse of more than twenty years. During this long 
interval, William governed his duchy, suppressed in- 
surrections, built castles and towns, carried on wars, 
regulated civil institutions, and, in fact, exercised, in a 
very energetic and successful manner, all the functions 
of government, — his life being diversified all the time 
by the usual incidents which mark the career of a 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 67 

great military ruler of an independent realm in the 
Middle Ages. We will give in this chapter a descrip- 
tion of some of the incidents. 

On one occasion a conspiracy was formed to take 
his life by secret assassination. A great chieftain, 
named Guy of Burgundy, William's uncle, was the 
leader of it, and a half-witted man, named Galet, 
who occupied the place of jester or fool in William's 
court, was the means of discovering and exposing it. 
These jesters of whom there was always one or 
more in the retinue of every great prince in those 
days, were either very eccentric or very foolish, or 
half-insane men, who were dressed fantastically, in 
gaudy colors and with cap and bells, and were kept 
to make amusement for the court. The name of 
William's jester was Galet. 

Guy of Burgundy and his fellow-conspirators oc- 
cupied certain gloomy castles, built in remote and 
lonely situations on the confines of Normandy. Here 
they were accustomed to assemble for the purpose of 
concocting their plans, and gathering their men and 
their resources — doing everything in the most cun- 
ning and secret manner. Before their scheme was 
fully ripe for execution, it happened that William 
made a hunting excursion into the neighborhood of 
their territory with a small band of followers, — such 
as would be naturally got together on such a party of 
pleasure. Galet, the fool, was among them. 



68 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

As soon as Guy and his fellow-conspirators learned 
that William was so near, they determined to pre- 
cipitate the execution of their plan, and waylay and 
assassmate him on his return. 

They accordingly left their secret and lonely ren- 
dezvous among the mountains, one by one, in order 
to avoid attracting observation, and went to a town 
called Bayeux, through which they supposed that 
William would have to pass on his return. Here 
they held secret consultations, and formed their final 
plans. They sent out a part of their number, in 
small bands, into the region of country which Wil- 
liam would have to cross, to occupy the various roads 
and passes, and thus to cut off all possibility of his 
escape. They made all these arrangements in the 
most secret and cautious manner, and began to think 
that they were sure of their prey. 

It happened, however, that some of William's at- 
tendants, with Galet the fool among them, had preceded 
William on his return, and had reached Bayeux at the 
time when the conspirators arrived there. The towns- 
people did not observe the coming of the conspirators 
particularly, as many horsemen and soldiers were com- 
ing and going at that time, and they had no means 
of distinguishing the duke's friends from his enemies; 
but Galet, as he sauntered about the town, noticed 
that there were many soldiers and knights to be seen 
who were not of his master's party. This attracted 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 69 

his attention; he began to watch the motions of these 
strangers, and to listen, without seeming to listen, in 
order to catch the words they spoke to each other as 
they talked in groups or passed one another in the 
streets. He was soon satisfied that some mischief was 
intended. He immediately threw aside his cap and 
bells, and his fantastic dress, and, taking a staff in his 
hand, he set off on foot, to go back as fast as possi- 
ble in search of the duke, and give him the alarm. 
He found the duke at a village called Valonges. He 
arrived there at night. He pressed forward hastily into 
his master's chamber, half forcing his way through the 
attendants, who, accustomed to the liberties which such 
a personage as he was accustomed to take on all oc- 
casions, made only a feeble resistance to his wishes. 
He found the duke asleep, and he called upon him with 
a very earnest voice to awake and arise immediately, 
for his life was in danger. 

William was at first inclined to disbelieve the story 
which Galet told him, and to think that there was no 
cause to fear. He was, however, soon convinced that 
Galet was right, and that there was reason for alarm. 
He arose and dressed himself hastily; and, inasmuch 
as a monarch, in the first moments of the discovery 
of a treasonable plot, knows not whom to trust, Wil- 
liam wisely concluded not to trust any body. He went 
himself to the stables, saddled his horse with his own 
hand, mounted him, and rode away. He had a very 



70 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

narrow escape; for, at the same time, while Galetwas 
hastening to Valonges to give his master warning of 
his danger, the conspirators had been advancing to the 
same place, and had completely surrounded it; and 
they were on the eve of making an attack upon Wil- 
liam's quarters at the very hour when he set out upon 
his flight. William had accordingly proceeded only a 
little way on his route, before he heard the footsteps 
of galloping horses, and the clanking of arms, on the 
road behind him. It was a troop of the conspirators 
coming, who, finding that William had fled, had set 
off immediately in pursuit. William rode hastily into 
a wood and let them go by. 

He remained for some time in his hiding-place, 
and then cautiously emerged from it to continue his 
way. He did not dare to keep the public road, al- 
though it was night, but took a wild and circuitous 
route, in lanes and by-paths, which conducted him, 
at length, to the vicinity of the sea. Here, about day- 
break, he was passing a mansion, supposing that no 
one would observe him at so early an hour, when, 
suddenly, he perceived a man sitting at the gate, armed 
and equipped, and in an attitude of waiting. He 
was waiting for his horse. He was a nobleman named 
Hubert. He recognized William immediately as the 
duke, and accosted him in a tone of astonishment, 
saying "Why, my lord duke, is it possible that this 
is you ? " He was amazed to see the ruler of the 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 71 

realm out at such an hour, in such a condition, alone, 
exhausted, his dress all in disorder from the haste 
with which he had put it on, and his steed breathless 
and covered with dust, and ready, apparently, to 
drop down with fatigue and exhaustion. 

William, finding that he was recognized, related 
his story. It appeared, in the end, that Hubert held 
his own castle and village as a tenant of one of the 
principal conspirators, and was bound, according to 
the feudal ideas of the time, to espouse his landlord's 
cause. He told William, however, that he had noth- 
ing to fear. "I will defend your life," said he, "as if 
it were my own." So saying, he called his three 
sons, who were all athletic and courageous young 
men, and commanded them to mount their horses and 
get ready for a march. He took William into his 
castle, and gave him the food and refreshment that he 
needed. Then he brought him again into the court- 
yard of the house, where William found the three 
young horsemen mounted and ready, and a strong and 
fleet steed prepared for himself He mounted. Hu- 
bert commanded his sons to conduct the prince with 
all dispatch to Falaise, without traveling at all upon 
the highway or entering a town. They took, accord- 
ingly, a straight course across the country — which 
was probably then, as now, nearly destitute of in- 
closures — and conducted William safely to his castle 
at Falaise. 



72 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

In the course of the morning, William's pursuers 
came to Hubert's castle, and asked if the duke had 
been seen going by. Hubert replied in the affirmative, 
and he mounted his steed with great readiness, to go 
and show them the road which the fugitive had taken. 
He urged them to ride hard, in hopes of soon over- 
taking the object of their pursuit. They drove on, ac- 
cordingly, with great impetuosity and ardor, under 
Hubert's guidance; but, as he had purposely taken a 
wrong road, he was only leading them farther and 
farther astray. Finally they gave up the chase, and 
Hubert returned with the disappointed pursuers to his 
fortress, William having in the meantime arrived safely 
at Falaise. 

The conspirators now found that it was useless 
any longer to attempt to conceal their plans. In fact, 
they were already all exposed, and they knew that 
William would immediately summon his troops and 
come out to seize them. They must, therefore, either 
fly from the country or attempt an open rebellion. 
They decided on the latter — the result was a civil 
war. In the end, William was victorious. He took 
a large number of the rebels prisoners, and he adopted 
the following very singular plan for inflicting a suita- 
ble punishment upon them, and at the same time 
erecting a permanent monument of his victory. He 
laid out a public road across the country, on the line 
over which he had been conducted by the sons of 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 73 

Hubert, and compelled the rebels to make it. A 
great part of this country was low and marshy, and 
had been for this reason avoided by the public road, 
which took a circuitous course around it. The rebel 
prisoners were now, however, set at work to raise a 
terrace or embankment, on a line surveyed by Wil- 
liam's engineers, which followed almost exactly the 
course of his retreat. The high road was then laid 
out upon this terrace, and it became immediately a 
public thoroughfare of great importance. It continued 
for several centuries one of the most frequented high- 
ways in the realm, and was known by the name of 
the Raised Road — Terre levee — throughout the king- 
dom. In fact, the remains of it, appearing like the 
ruins of an ancient rail road embankment, exist to the 
present day. 

In the course of the war with these rebels a 
curious incident occurred at one of the battles, or, 
rather, is said to have occurred, by the historians 
who tell the story, which, if true, illustrates very 
strikingly the romantic and chivalrous ideas of the 
times. Just as the battle was commencing, William 
perceived a strong and finely-equipped body of horse- 
men preparing to charge upon the very spot where 
he himself, surrounded by his officers, was standing. 
Now the armor worn by knights in battle in those 
times covered and concealed the figure and the face 
so fully, that it would have been impossible even for 



74 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

acquaintances and friends to recognize each other, 
were it not that the knights were all accustomed to 
wear certain devices upon some part of their armor 
— painted, for instance, upon their shields, or em- 
broidered on little banners which they bore — by 
means of which they might be known. These devices 
became at length hereditary in the great families, — sons 
being proud to wear, themselves, the emblems to 
which the deeds of their fathers had imparted a trace 
of glory and renown. The devices of different chief- 
tains were combined, sometimes, in cases of inter- 
marriage, or were modified in various ways; and with 
these minor changes they would descend from gen- 
eration to generation as the family coat of arms. 
And this was the origin of heraldry. 

Now the body of horsemen that were advancing 
to the charge, as above described, had each of them 
his device upon a little flag or banner attached to 
their lances. As they were advancing, William scru- 
tinized them closely, and presently recognized in their 
leader a man who had formerly been upon his side. 
His name was Rollo de Tesson. He was one of those 
who had sworn fealty to him at the time when his 
father Robert presented him to the council, when set- 
ting out upon his pilgrimage. William accordingly 
exclaimed, with a loud voice, " Why, these are my 
friends!" The officers and the soldiers of the body- 
guard who were with him, taking up the cry, 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 75 

shouted " Friends ! friends !" Rollo de Tesson and 
the other knights, who were slowly coming up, pre- 
paring to charge upon William's party, surprised at 
being thus accosted, paused in their advance, and 
finally halted. Rollo said to the other knights, who 
gathered around him, "1 was his friend. 1 gave my 
oath to his father that 1 would stand by him and de- 
fend him with my life; and now I have this morn- 
ing sworn to the Count of Cotentin" — the Count of 
Cotentin was the leader of the rebellion — "that I 
would seek out William on the battle-field, and be 
the first to give him a blow, I know not what to 
do." " Keep both oaths, " replied one of his com- 
panions. " Go and strike him a gentle blow, and 
then defend him with your life." The whole troop 
seconded this proposal by acclamation. Rollo ad- 
vanced, followed by the other knights, with gestures and 
shouts denoting that they were- friends. He rode up 
to William, told him that he had that morning sworn 
to strike him, and then dealt him a pretended blow 
upon his shoulder; but as both the shoulder and the 
hand which struck it were armed with steel, the 
clanking sound was all the effect that was produced. 
Rollo and his troop — their sworn obligation to the 
Count of Cotentin being thus fulfilled — turned now 
into the ranks of William's soldiery, and fought val- 
iantly all day upon his side. 

Although William was generally victorious in the 



76 WILLIAM THE CONaUEROR 

battles that he fought, and succeeded in putting down 
one rebellion after another with promptness and de- 
cision, still, new rebellions and new wars were con- 
stantly breaking out, which kept his dominions in a 
continual state of commotion. In fact, the chieftains, 
the nobles, and the knights, constituting the only 
classes of society that exercised any influence, or 
were regarded with any respect in those days, were 
never contented except when actively employed in 
military campaigns. The excitements and the glory 
of war were the only excitements and glory that they 
understood, or had the means of enjoying. Their 
dweUings were great fortresses, built on the summits 
of the rocks, which, however picturesque and beau- 
tiful they appear as ruins now, were very gloomy 
and desolate as residences then. They were attract- 
ive enough when their inmates were flying to them 
for refuge from an enemy, or were employed within 
the walls in concentrating their forces and brightening 
up their arms for some new expedition for vengeance 
or plunder, but they were lonely and lifeless scenes 
of restlessness and discontent in times of quietness 
and peace. 

It is difl&cult for us, at this day, to conceive how 
destitute of all the ordinary means of comfort and en- 
joyment, in comparison with a modern dwelling, the 
ancient feudal castles must have been. They were 
placed in situations as nearly inaccessible as possible, 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 77 

and the natural impediments of approach were in- 
creased by walls, and gates, and ditches, and draw- 
bridges. The door of access was often a window in 
the wall, ten or fifteen feet from the ground, to which 
the inmates or their friends mounted by a ladder. 
The floors were of stone, the walls were naked, the 
ceiling was a rudely-constructed series of arches. 
The apartments, too, were ordinarily small, and were 
arranged one above another, in the successive stories 
of a tower. Nor could these cell-like chambers be 
enlivened by the wide and cheerful windows of mod- 
ern times, which not only admit the light to animate 
the scene within, but also afford to the spectator 
there, wide-spread, and sometimes enchanting views 
of the surrounding country. The castle windows of 
ancient days were, on the contrary, narrow loop-holes, 
each at the bottom of a deep recess in the thick 
wall. If they had been made wide they would have 
admitted too easily the arrows and javelins of besieg- 
ers, as well as the wind and rain of wintry storms. 
There were no books in these desolate dwellings, no 
furniture but armor, no pleasures but drinking and 
carousals. 

Nor could these noble and valiant knights and 
barons occupy themselves in any useful employment. 
There was nothing which it was respectable for them 
to do but to fight. They looked down with contempt 
upon all the industrial pursuits of life. The cultivation 



78 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

of farms, the rearing of flocks and herds, arts, manu- 
factures, and commerce — everything of this sort, by 
which man can benefit his fellow-man, was entirely 
beneath them. In fact, their descendants to the present 
day, even in England, entertain the same ideas. Their 
younger sons can enter the army or the navy, and 
spend their lives in killing and destroying, or in 
awaiting, in idleness, dissipation, and vice, for orders 
to kill and destroy, without dishonor; but to engage 
in any way in those vast and magnificent operations 
of peaceful industry, on which the true greatness and 
glory of England depend, would be perpetual and ir- 
retrievable disgrace. A young nobleman can serve, in 
the most subordinate official capacity, on board a man- 
of-war, and take pay for it, without degradation; but 
to build a man-of-war itself and take pay for it, would 
be to compel the whole class to disown him. 

It was in consequence of this state of feeling among 
the knights and barons of William's day that peace 
was always tedious and irksome to them, and they 
were never contented except when engaged in battles 
and campaigns. It was this feeling, probably, quite 
as much as any settled hostility to William's right to 
reign, that made his barons so eager to engage in 
insurrections and rebellions. There was, however, after 
all, a real and deep-seated opposition to William's 
right of succession, founded in the ideas of the day. 
They could not well endure that one of so humble 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 79 

and even ignominious birth, on the mother's side, 
should be the heir of so illustrious a line as the great 
dukes of Normandy. William's enemies were accus- 
tomed to designate him by opprobrious epithets, derived 
from the circumstances of his birth. Though he was 
patient and enduring, and often very generous in forgiv- 
ing other injuries, these insults to the memory of his 
mother always stung him very deeply, and awakened 
the strongest emotions of resentment. One instance of 
this was so conspicuous, that it is recorded in almost 
all the histories of William that have been written. 

It was in the midst of one of the wars in which 
he was involved, that he was advancing across the 
country to the attack of a strong castle, which, in 
addition to the natural strength of its walls and fortifi- 
cations, was defended by a numerous and powerful 
garrison. So confident, in fact, were the garrison in 
their numbers and power, that when they heard that 
William was advancing to attack them, they sent out 
a detachment to meet him. This detachment, how- 
ever, were not intending to give him open battle. 
Their plan was to lay in ambuscade, and attack Wil- 
liam's troops when they came to the spot, and while 
they were unaware of the vicinity of an enemy, and 
off their guard. 

William, however, they found, was not off his 
guard. He attacked the ambuscade with so much 
vigor as to put the whole force immediately to flight. 



8o WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Of course the fugitives directed their steps toward the 
castle. William and his soldiers followed them in 
headlong pursuit. The end was, that the detachment 
from the garrison had scarcely time, after making 
good their own entrance, to raise the draw-bridges 
and secure the gates, so as to keep their pursuers 
from entering too. They did, however, succeed in 
doing this, and William, establishing his troops about 
the castle, opened his lines and commenced a regular 
siege. 

The garrison were very naturally vexed and irritated 
at the bad success of their intended stratagem. To have 
the ambuscade not only fail of its object, but to have 
also the men that formed it driven thus ignominiously 
in, and so narrowly escaping, also, the danger of let- 
ting in the whole troop of their enemies after them, 
was a great disgrace. To retaliate upon William, 
and to throw back upon him the feelings of morti- 
fication and chagrin which they felt themselves, they 
mounted the walls and towers, and shouted out all 
sorts of reproaches and insults. Finally, when they 
found that they could not make mere words suffi- 
ciently stinging, they went and procured skins and 
hides, and aprons of leather, and everything else that 
they could find that was connected with the trade of 
a tanner, and shook them at the troops of their as- 
sailants from the towers and walls, with shouts of 
merriment and derision. 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 81 

William was desperately enraged at these insults. 
He organized an assaulting party, and by means of 
' the great exertions which the exasperation of his men 
stimulated them to make, he carried some of the out- 
works and took a number of prisoners. These pris- 
oners he cut to pieces, and then caused their bloody 
and mangled limbs and members to be thrown, by 
great slings, over the castle walls. 

At one time during the period which is included 
within the limits of this chapter, and in the course of 
one of those intervals of peace and quietness within 
his own dominions which William sometimes enjoyed, 
the King of France became involved in a war with 
one of his own rebellious subjects, and William went, 
with an army of Normans, to render him aid. King 
Henry was at first highly gratified at this prompt and 
effectual succor, but he soon afterward began to feel 
jealous of the universal popularity and renown which 
the young duke began soon to acquire. William was 
at that time only about twenty-four years old, but he 
took the direction of everything, moved to and fro 
with the utmost celerity, planned the campaigns, 
directed the sieges ".nd by his personal accomplish- 
ments and his bravery, he won all hearts, and was 
the subject of everybody's praises. King Henry 
found himself supplanted, in some measure, in the re- 
gard and honorable consideration of his subjects, and 
he began to feel very envious and jealous of his rival. 

M. of H.— 12-6 



82 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Sometimes particular incidents would occur, in 
which William's feats of prowess or dexterity would 
so excite the admiration of the army that he would 
be overwhelmed with acclamations and applause. 
These were generally exploits of combat on the field, 
or of escape from pursuers when outnumbered, in 
which good fortune had often, perhaps, quite as much 
to do in securing the result as strength or courage. 
But in those days a soldier's good luck was perhaps 
as much the subject of applause as his muscular force 
or his bravery; and, in fact, it was as deservedly so; 
for the strength of arm, and the coolness, or, rather, 
the ferocity of courage, which make a good com- 
batant in personal contests on a battle-field, are 
qualities of brutes rather than of men. We feel a 
species of respect for them in the Hon or tiger, but 
they deserve only execration when exercised in the 
wantonness of hatred and revenge by man against 
his brother man. 

One of the instances of William's extraordinary 
success was the following. He was reconnoitering 
the enemy on one occasion, accompanied only by four 
or five knights, who acted as his attendants and body- 
guard. The party were at a distance from the camp 
of the enemy, and supposed they were not observed. 
They were observed, however, and immediately a party 
of twelve chosen horsemen was formed, and ordered 
to ride out and surprise them. This detachment con- 



1040-60] REIGN IN NORMANDY 83 

cealed themselves in an ambuscade, at a place where 
the reconnoitering party must pass, and when the 
proper moment arrived, they burst out suddenly upon 
them and summoned them to surrender. Twelve 
against six seemed to render both flight and resistance 
equally vain. William, however, advanced immedi- 
ately to the attack of the ambuscaders. He poised his 
long lance, and, riding on with it at full speed, he 
unhorsed and killed the foremost of them at a blow. 
Then, just drawing back his weapon to gather 
strength for another blow, he killed the second of his 
enemies in the same manner. His followers were so 
much animated at this successful onset, that they ad- 
vanced very resolutely to the combat. In the mean 
time, the shouts carried the alarm to William's camp, 
and a strong party set off to rescue William and his 
companions. The others then turned to fly, while 
William followed them so eagerly and closely, that he 
and they who were with him overtook and disabled 
seven of them, and made them prisoners. The rest 
escaped. William and his party then turned and be- 
gan to proceed toward their own camp, conveying 
their prisoners in their train. 

They were met by King Henry himself at the 
head of a detachment of three hundred men, who, 
not knowing how much necessity there might be for 
efficient aid, were hastening to the scene of action. 
The sight of William coming home victorious, and the 



84 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

tales told by his companions of the invincible strength 
and daring which he had displayed in the sudden dan- 
ger, awakened a universal enthusiasm, and the. plaudits 
and encomiums with which the whole camp resounded 
were doubtless as delicious and intoxicating to him as 
they were bitter to the king. 

It was by such deeds, and by such personal and 
mental characteristics as these, that William, notwith- 
standing the untoward influences of his birth, fought 
his way, during the twenty years of which we have 
been speaking, into general favor, and established a 
universal renown. He completely organized and ar- 
ranged the internal affairs of his own kingdom, and 
established himself firmly upon the ducal throne. His 
mind had become mature, his. resources were well 
developed, and his soul, always ambitious and aspiring, 
began to reach forward to the grasping of some 
grander objects of pursuit, and to the entering upon 
some wider field of action than his duchy of Normandy 
could afford. During this interval, however, he was 
married; and, as the circumstances of his marriage 
were somewhat extraordinary, we must make that 
event the subject of a separate chapter. 



CHAPTER V. 

The Marriage. 

Political importance of a royal marriage. — William's views in regard to hit 
marriage. — His choice.— Matilda's genealogy.— Her relationship to 
William. — Matilda's accomplishments. — Her embroidery. — Matilda's in- 
dustry. — The Bayeux tapestry.— The designs. — Uncouth drawing. — 
Preservation. — Elements of decay. — Great age of the Bayeux tapestry./- 
Marriage negotiations.— Matilda's objections. — Matilda's refusal.r-Het 
attachment to Brihtric. — Matilda's attachment not reciprocated. — Her 
thirst for revenge.— William and Matilda's consanguinity. — An obstacle 
to their marriage. — Negotiations with the pope. — Causes of delay. — Wil- 
liam's quarrel with Matilda.— The reconciliation. — The marriage. — Re- 
joicings and festivities. — Residence at Rouen.— Ancient castles and pal- 
aces. — Matilda's palace.^ I,uxury and splendor. — Mauger, archbishop 
of Rouen. — William and Matilda excommunicated. — Lanfranc sent to 
negotiate with the pope. — His success. — Conditions of Lanfranc's treaty. 
— Their fulfillment.— William and Matilda's children.— Matilda's^ d(T=" 
mestic character. — Objects of William's marriage. — Baldwin, CSVHTt ot 
Flanders. — The blank letter. — Baldwin's surprise. 

ONE of the most important points which an 
hereditary potentate has to attend to, in 
completing his political arrangements is, the 
question of his marriage. Until he has a family and 
an heir, men's minds are unsettled in respect to the 
succession, and the various rival candidates and claim- 
ants to the throne are perpetually plotting and in- 
triguing to put themselves into a position to spring at 
once into his place if sickness, or a battle, or any 
sudden accident should take him av^ay. This evil 

(85) 



86 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

was more formidable than usual in the case of Wil- 
liam, for the men who were prepared to claim his 
place when he was dead were all secretly or openly 
maintaining that their right to it was superior to his 
while he was hving. This gave a double intensity to 
the excitement with which the public was perpetually 
agitated in respect to the crown, and kept the minds 
of the ambitious and the aspiring, throughout Wil- 
liam's dominions, in a continual fever. It was obvious 
that a great part of the cause of this restless looking 
for change and consequent planning to promote it 
would be removed if WilHam had a son. 

It became, therefore, an important matter of state 
policy that the duke should be married. In fact, the 
barons and military chieftains who were friendly to 
him urged this measure upon him, on account of the 
great effect which they perceived it would have in 
settling the minds of the people of the country, and 
consolidating his power. William accordingly began 
to look around for a wife. It appeared, however, in 
the end, that, though policy was the main consider- 
ation which first led him to contemplate marriage, 
love very probably exercised an important influence 
in determining his choice of the lady; at all events, 
the object of his choice was an object worthy of 
love. She was one of the most beautiful and accom- 
plished princesses in Europe. 

She was the daughter of a great potentate who 



I045] THE MARRIAGE 87 

ruled over the country of Flanders. Flanders lies 
upon the coast, east of Normandy, beyond the fron- 
tiers of France, and on the southern shore of the 
German Ocean. Her father's title was the Earl of 
Flanders. He governed his dominions, however, like 
a sovereign, and was at the head of a very effective 
military power. His family, too, occupied a very high 
rank, and enjoyed great consideration among the other 
princes and potentates of Europe. It had intermarried 
with the royal family of England, so that Matilda, the 
daughter of the earl, whom William was disposed to 
make his bride, was found, by the genealogists, who 
took great interest in those days in tracing such con- 
nections, to have descended in a direct line from the 
great English king, Alfred himself. 

This relationship, by making Matilda's birth the 
more illustrious, operated strongly in favor of the match, 
as a great part of the motive which William had in 
view, in his intended marriage, was to aggrandize and 
strengthen his own position, by the connection which 
he was about to form. There was, however, another 
consanguinity in the case which had a contrary tend- 
ency. Matilda's father had been connected with the 
Norman as well as with the English line, and Matilda 
and William were in some remote sense, cousins. 
This circumstance led, in the sequel, as will presently 
be seen, to serious difficulty and trouble. 

Matilda was seven years younger than William. 



88 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

She was brought up in her father's court, and famed 
far and wide for her beauty and accomplishments. 
The accomplishments in which ladies of high rank 
sought to distinguish themselves in those days were 
two, music and embroidery. The embroidery of tap- 
estry was the great attainment, and in this art the 
young Matilda acquired great skill. The tapestry 
which was made in the Middle Ages was used to 
hang against the walls of some of the more orna- 
mented rooms in royal palaces and castles, to hide 
the naked surface of the stones of which the building 
was constructed. The cloths thus suspended were at 
first plain, afterward they began to be ornamented 
with embroidered borders or other decorations, and 
at length ladies learned to employ their own leisure 
hours, and beguile the tedium of the long confine- 
ment which many of them had to endure within 
their castles, in embroidering various devices and de- 
signs on the hangings intended for their own cham- 
bers, or to execute such work as presents for their 
friends. Matilda's industry and skill, in this kind of 
work were celebrated far and wide. 

The accomplishments which ladies take great pains 
to acquire in their early years are sometimes, it is 
said, laid almost entirely aside after their marriage; 
not necessarily because they are then less desirous to 
please, but sometimes from the abundance of domes- 
tic duty, which allows them little time, and some- 



I045] THE MARRIAGE 89 

times from the pressure of their burdens of care or 
sorrow, which leave them no heart for the occupa- 
tions of amusement or gayety. It seems not to have 
been so in Matilda's case, however. She resumed 
her needle often during the years of her wedded life, 
and after William had accomplished his conquest of 
England, she worked upon a long linen web, with 
immense labor, a series of designs illustrating the 
various events and incidents of his campaign, and 
the work has been preserved to the present day. 

At least there is such a web now existing in the 
ancient town of Bayeux, in Normandy, which has 
been there from a period beyond the memory of men, 
and which tradition says was worked by Matilda. 
It would seem, however, that if she did it at all, she 
must have done it "as Solomon built the temple 
— with a great deal of help;" for this famous piece of 
embroidery, which has been celebrated among all the 
historians and scholars of the world for several hun- 
dred years by the name of the 'Bayeux Tapestry, is 
over four hundred feet long, and nearly two feet 
wide. The web is of linen, while the embroidery is 
of woolen. It was all obviously executed with the 
needle, and was worked with infinite labor and care. 
The woolen thread which was used was of various 
colors, suited to represent the different objects in the 
design, though these colors are of course, now much 
tarnished and faded. The designs themselves are very 



90 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

simple and even rude, evincing very little knowledge 
of the principles of modern art. Uncouth as such 
work would be considered now, it seems to have been, 
in Matilda's days, very much praised and admired. 

We often have occasion to observe, in watching the 
course of human affairs, the frailty and transitoriness 
of things apparently most durable and strong. In the 
case of this embroidery, on the contrary, we are 
struck with the durability and permanence of what 
would seem to be most frail and fleeting. William's 
conquest of England took place in 1066. This piece 
of tapestry, therefore, if Matilda really worked it, is 
over eight hundred years old. And when we con- 
sider how delicate, slender, and frail is the fibre of a 
linen thread, and that the various elements of decay, 
always busy in the work of corrupting and destroy- 
ing the works of man, have proved themselves pow- 
erful enough to waste away and crumble into ruin 
the proudest structures which he has ever attempted 
to rear, we are amazed that these slender filaments 
have been able to resist their action so long. The 
Bayeux tapestry has lasted nearly a thousand years; 
it will probably last for a thousand years to come; so 
that the vast and resistless power, which destroyed 
Babylon and Troy, and is making visible progress in 
the work of destroying the Pyramids, is foiled by the 
durability of a piece of needle-work, executed by the 
frail and delicate fingers of a woman, 



I045-52] THE MARRIAGE 91 

We may have occasion to advert to the Bayeux 

tapestry again, when we come to narrate the exploits 

which it was the particular object of this historical 

embroidery to illustrate and adorn. In the mean 

_Jime, we return to our story. 

The matrimonial negotiations of princes and 
princesses are always conducted in a formal and 
ceremonious manner, and through the intervention of 
legates, embassadors, and commissioners without 
number, who are, of course, interested in protracting 
the proceedings, so as to prolong, as much as possi- 
ble, vtheir own diplomatic importance and power. Be- 
sides these accidental and temporary difficulties, it 
soon appeared that there were, in this case, some 
real and very formidable obstacles, which threatened 
for a time entirely to frustrate the scheme. 

Among these difficulties there was one which was 
not usually, in such cases, considered of much im- 
portance, but which, ifl- this-instance, seemed for a 
long time to put an effectual bar to William's wishes, 
and that was the aversion which the young princess 
herself felt for the match. She could have, one would 
suppose, no personal feeling of repugnance against 
William, for he was a tall and handsome cavalier, 
highly graceful and accomplished, and renowned for 
his bravery and success in war. He was, in every 
respect, such a personage as would be most likely to 
captivate the imagination of a maiden princess in 



92 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

those warlike times. Matilda, however, made objec- 
tions to his birth. She could not consider him as 
the legitimate descendant and heir of the dukes of 
Normandy. It is true, he was then in possession of 
the throne, but he was regarded by a large portion 
of the most powerful chieftains in his realm as a 
usurper. He was liable, at any time, on some sud- 
den change of fortune, to be expelled from his do- 
minions. His position, in a word, though for the 
time being very exalted, was too precarious and un- 
stable, and his personal claims to high social rank 
were too equivocal, to justify her trusting her destiny 
in his hands. In a word, Matilda's answer to 
William's proposals was an absolute refusal to be- 
come his wife. 

"^ These ostensible grounds, however, on which Ma- 
tilda based her refusal, plausible as they were, were 
not the real and true ones. The secret motive was 
another attachment which she had formed. There 
had been sent to her father's court in Flanders, from 
the English king, a young Saxon embassador, whose 
name was Brihtric. Brihtric remained some little time 
at the court in Flanders, and Matilda, who saw him 
often at the various entertainments, celebrations, and 
parties of pleasure which were arranged for his 
amusement, conceived a strong attachment to him. 
He was of a very fair complexion, and his features 
were expressive and beautiful. He was a noble of 



1045-52] THE MARRIAGE 93 

high position in England, though, of course, his rank 
was inferior to that of Matilda. As it would have 
been deen^ed hardly proper for him, under the cir- 
cumstances of the case, to have aspired to the prin- 
cess's hand, on account of the superiority of her so- 
cial position, Matilda felt that it was her duty to 
make known her sentiments to him, and thus to 
open the way. She did so; but she found, unhappy 
'iSi^^' maiden, that Brihtric did not feel, himself, the love 
which he had inspired in her, and all the efforts and 
arts to which she was impelled by the instinct of 
affection proved wholly unavailing to call it forth. 
Brihtric, after fulfilling the object of his mission, took 
leave of Matilda coldly, while her heart was almost 
breaking, and went away. 

As the sweetest wine transforms itself into the 
sharpest vinegar, so the warmest and most ardent 
love turns, when it turns at all, to the most bitter and 
envenomed hate. Love gave place soon in Matilda's 
heart to indignation, and indignation to a burning 
thirst for revenge. The intensity of the first excitement 
subsided; but Matilda never forgot and never forgave 
the disappointment and the indignity which she had 
endured. She had an opportunity long afterward to 
take terrible revenge on Brihtric in England, by sub- 
jecting him to cruelties and hardships there which 
brought him to his grave. 

In the mean time, while her thoughts were so oc- 



94 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

cupied with this attachment, she had, of course, no 
heart to listen favorably to William's proposals. Her 
friends would have attached no importance to the real 
cause of her aversion to the match, but they felt the 
force of the objections which could justly be advanced 
against William's rank, and his real right to his throne, 
^^hen the consanguinity of the parties was a great 
source of embarrassment and trouble. Persons as 
nearly related to each other as they were, were for- 
bidden by the Roman Catholic rules to marry. There 
was such a thing as getting a dispensation from the 
pope, by which the marriage would be authorized. 
William accordingly sent embassadors to Rome to ne- 
gotiate this business. This, of-coms^, opened a new 
field for difficulties and delays. 

The papal authorities were accustomed, in such 
cases, to exact as the price, or, rather, as the condi- 
tion of their dispensation, some grant or beneficial 
conveyance from the parties interested, to the Church, 
such as the foundation of an abbey or a monastery, 
the building of a chapel, or the endowment of a 
charity, by way, as it were, of making amends to 
the Church, by the benefit thus received, for what- 
ever injury the cause of religion and morality might 
sustain by the relaxation of a divine law. Of course, 
this being the end in view, the tendency on the part 
of the authorities at Rome would be to protract the 
negotiations, so as to obtain from the suitor's impa- 



I045-52] THE MARRIAGE 95 

tience better terms in the end. The embassadors and 
commissioners, too, on William's part, would have no 
strong motive for hastening the proceedings. Rome 
was an agreeable place of residence, and to live there 
as the embassador of a royal duke of Normandy was 
to enjoy a high degree of consideration, and to be 
surrounded continually by scenes of magnificence and 
splendor. Then, again, William himself was not al- 
ways at leisure to urge the business forward by giv- 
ing it his own close attention; for, during the period 
while these negotiations were pending, he was oc- 
cupied, from time to time, with foreign wars, or in 
the suppression of rebellions among his barons. Thus, 
from one cause and another, it seemed as if the bus- 
iness would never come to an end. 

in fact, a less resolute and determined man than 
William would have given up in despair, for it was 
seven years, it is said, before the affair was brought 
to a conclusion. One story is told of the impetuous 
energy which William manifested in this suit, which 
seems almost incredible. 

It was after the negotiations had been protracted 
for several years, and at a time when the difficulties 
were principally those arising from Matilda's opposi- 
tion, that the occurrence took place. It was at an 
interview which William had with Matilda in the 
streets of Bruges, one of her father's cities. AH that 
took place at the interview is not known, but in the 



96 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

end of it William's resentment at Matilda's treatment 
of him lost all bounds. He struck her or pushed her 
so violently as to throw her down upon the ground. 
It is said that he struck her repeatedly, and then, 
leaving her with her clothes all soiled and disheveled, 
rode off in a rage. Love quarrels are often the means 
of bringing the contending parties nearer together 
than they were before, but such a terrible love quar- 
rel as this, we hope, is very rare. 

Violent as it was, however, it was followed by a 
perfect reconciliationj- and in the end all obstacles 
were removed, and William and Matilda were mar- 
ried. This event took place in 1052. / 

The marriage ceremony was performed at one of 
William's castles, on the frontiers of Normandy, as 
it is customary for princes and kings to be married 
always in their own dominions. Matilda was con- 
ducted there with great pomp and parade by her 
parents, and was accompanied by a large train of at- 
tendants and friends. This company, mounted — both 
knights and ladies — on horses beautifully caparisoned, 
moved across the country like a little army on a march, 
or rather like a triumphal procession escorting a 
queen. Matilda was received at the castle with dis- 
tinguished honor, and the marriage celebrations, and 
the entertainments accompanying it, were continued 
for several days. It was a scene of unusual festivity 
and rejoicing. 



1052] THE MARRIAGE 97 

The dress both of William and Matilda, on this 
occasion, was very specially splendid. She wore a 
mantle studded with the most costly jewels; and, in 
addition to the other splendors of his dress, William 
too wore a mantle and a helmet, both of which were 
richly adorned with the same costly decorations. So 
much importance was attached, in those days, to this 
outward show, and so great was the public interest 
taken in it, that these dresses of William and Matilda, 
with all the jewelry that adorned them, were depos- 
ited afterward in the great church at Bayeux, where 
they remained a sort of public spectacle, the property 
of the Church, for nearly five hundred years. 

From the Castle of Augi, where the marriage cer- 
emonies were performed, William proceeded, after 
these first festivities and rejoicings were over, to the 
great city of Rouen, conducting his bride thither with 
great pomp and parade. Here the young couple es- 
tablished themselves, living in the enjoyment of every 
species of luxury and splendor which were attainable 
in those days. As has already been said, the inte- 
riors, even of royal castles and palaces, presented but 
few of the comforts and conveniences deemed essen- 
tial to the happiness of a home in modern times. 
The European ladies of the present day delight in 
their suites of retired and well-furnished apartments, 
adorned with velvet carpets, and silken curtains, and 
luxuriant beds of down, with sofas and couches 

M. of H.— la — 7 



98 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

adapted to every fancy which the caprice of fatigue 
or restlessness may assume, and cabinets stored with 
treasures, and hbraries of embellished books — the 
whole scene illuminated by the splendor of gas-lights, 
whose brilliancy is reflected by mirrors and candela- 
bras, sparkling with a thousand hues. Matilda's feudal 
palace presented no such scenes as these. The cold 
stone floors were covered with mats of rushes. The 
walls — if the naked masonry was hidden at all 
— were screened by hangings of coarse tapestry, or- 
namented with uncouth and hideous figures. The 
beds were miserable pallets, the windows were loop- 
holes, and the castle itself had all the architectural 
characteristics of a prison. 

Still, there was a species of luxury and splendor 
even then. Matilda had splendid horses to ride, all 
magnificently caparisoned. She had dresses adorned 
most lavishly with gold and jewels. There were 
troops of valiant knights, all glittering in armor of 
steel, to escort her on her journeys, and accompany 
and wait upon heron her excursions of pleasure; and 
there were grand banquets and carousals, from time 
to time, in the long castle hall, with tournaments, 
and races, and games, and other military shows, con- 
ducted with great parade and pageantry. Matilda 
thus commenced her married life in luxury and 
splendor. 

In luxury and splendor, but not in peace. William 



1052] THE MARRIAGE 99 

had an uncle whose name was Mauger. He was the 
Archbishop of Rouen, and was a dignitary of great 
influence and power. Now it was, of course, the in- 
terest of William's relatives that he should not be 
married, as every increase of probability that his 
crown would descend to direct heirs diminished their 
future chances of the succession, and, of course, un- 
dermined their present importance. Mauger had been 
very much opposed to this match, and had exerted 
himself in every way, while the negotiations were 
pending, to impede and delay them. The point which 
he most strenuously urged was the consanguinity of 
the parties, a point to which it was incumbent on 
him, as he maintained — being the head of the Church 
in Normandy — particularly to attend. It seems that, 
notwithstanding William's negotiations with the pope 
to obtain a dispensation, the affair was not fully set- 
tled at Rome before the marriage; and very soon after 
the celebration of the nuptials, Mauger fulminated an 
edict of excommunication against both William and 
Matilda, for intermarrying within the degrees of rela- 
tionship which the canons of the Church proscribed. 
An excommunication, in the Middle Ages, was a 
terrible calamity. The person thus condemned was 
made, so far as such a sentence could effect it, an out- 
cast from man, and a wretch accursed of Heaven. 
The most terrible denunciations were uttered against 
him, and in the case of a prince, like that of William, 



loo WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

his subjects were all absolved from their allegiance, 
and forbidden to succor or defend him. A powerful 
potentate like William could maintain himself for a 
time against the influence and effects of such a course, 
but it was pretty sure to work more and more strongly 
against him through the superstitions of the people, 
and to wear him out in the end. 

William resolved to appeal at once to the pope, 
and to affect, by some means or other, the object of 
securing his dispensation. There was a certain monk, 
then obscure and unknown, but who afterward be- 
came a very celebrated public character, named Lan- 
franc, whom, for some reason or other, William sup- 
posed to possess the necessary qualifications for this 
mission. He accordingly gave him his instructions 
and sent him away. Lanfranc proceeded to Rome, 
and there he managed the negotiation with the pope 
so dexterously as soon to bring it to a conclusion. 

The arrangement which he made was this. The 
pope was to grant the dispensation and confirm the 
marriage, thus removing the sentence of excommuni- 
cation which the Archbishop Mauger had pronounced, 
on condition that William should build and endow a 
hospital for a hundred poor persons, and also erect 
two abbeys, one to be built by himself, for monks, 
and one by Matilda, for nuns. Lanfranc agreed to 
these conditions on the part of William and Matilda, 
and they, when they came to be informed of them. 



1052] THE MARRIAGE loi 

accepted and confirmed them with great joy. The 
ban of excommunication was removed ; all Normandy 
acquiesced in the marriage, and William and Matilda 
proceeded to form the plans and to superintend the 
construction of the abbeys. 

They selected the city of Caen for the site, quite 
near the northern coast of Normandy. It was situated 
in a broad and pleasant valley, at the confluence of 
two rivers, and was surrounded by beautiful and fer- 
tile meadows. It was strongly fortified, being sur- 
rounded by walls and towers, which William's an- 
cestors, the dukes of Normandy, had built. William 
and Matilda took a strong interest in the plans and 
constructions connected with the building of the ab- 
beys. William's was a very extensive edifice, and 
contained within its inclosures a royal palace for him- 
self, where, in subsequent years, himself and Matilda 
often resided. 

The principal buildings of these abbeys still stand, 
though the walls and fortifications of Caen are gone. 
The buildings are used now for other purposes than 
those for which they were erected, but they retain 
the names originally given them, and are visited by 
great numbers of tourists being regarded with great 
interest as singular memorials of the past — twin mon- 
uments commemorating an ancient marriage. 

The marriage being thus finally confirmed and ac- 
quiesced in, William and Matilda enjoyed a long period 



I02 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

of domestic peace. The oldest child was a son. He 
was born within a year of the marriage, and William 
named him Robert, that, as the reader will recollect, 
having been the name of William's father. There 
was, in process of time, a large family of children. 
Their names were Robert, William Rufus, Henry, Ce- 
ciha, Agatha, Constance, Adela, Adelaide, and Gun- 
dred. Matilda devoted herself with great maternal 
fidelity to the care and education of these children, 
and many of them became subsequently historical per- 
sonages of the highest distinction. 

The object, which, it will be recollected, was one 
of William's main inducements for contracting this 
alliance, namely, the strengthening of his power by 
thus~connecting himself with the reigning family of 
Flanders, was, in a great measure, accomplished. The 
two governments, leagued together by this natural 
tie, strengthened each other's power, and often ren- 
dered each other essential assistance, though there 
was one occasion, subsequently, when William's reli- 
ance on this aid was disappointed. It was as follows: 

When he was planning his invasion of England, 
he sent to Matilda's brother, Baldwin, who was then 
Count of Flanders, inviting him to raise a force and 
join him. Baldwin, who considered the enterprise as 
dangerous and Quixotic, sent back word to inquire 
what share of the English territory William would 
give him if he would go and help him conquer it. 



1052] THE MARRIAGE 103 

William thought that this attempt to make a bargain 
beforehand, for a division of spoil, evinced a very 
mercenary and distrustful spirit on the part of his 
brother-in-law — a spirit which he was not at all dis- 
posed to encourage. He accordingly took a sheet of 
parchment, and writing nothing within, he folded it 
in the form of a letter, and wrote upon the outside 
the following rhyme: 

" Beau frere, en Angleterre vous aurer 
Ce qui dedans escript, vous trouverez." 

Which royal distich might be translated thus: 

" Your share, good brother, of the land we win, 
You'll find entitled and described within." 

William forwarded the empty missive by the hand 
of a messenger, who delivered it to Baldwin as if it 
were a dispatch of great consequence. Baldwin re- 
ceived it eagerly, and opened it at once. He was 
surprised at finding nothing within; and after turning 
the parchment every way, in vain search after the 
description of his share, he asked the messenger 
what if meant. "It means," said he, "that as there 
is nothing writ within, so nothing you shall have." 

Notwithstanding this witticism, however, some 
arrangement seems afterward to have been made be- 
tween the parties, for Flanders did, in fact, contribute 
an important share toward the force which William 
raised when preparing for the invasion. 



CHAPTER VI. 
The Lady Emma. 

William's claim to the English throne.— The I<ady Emma.— Claimants to the 
English throne. — Ethelred. — Ethelred subdued. — He flies to Normandy. 
— Massacre of the Danes. — Horrors of civil war. — Ethelred's tyranny. — 
Emma's policy. — Emma's humiliation. — Ethelred invited to return. — 
Restoration of Ethelred and Emma.— War -with Canute. — Ethelred's 
death. — Situation of Emma. — Flight of Emma to Normandy. — Her chil- 
dren. — War with Canute. — Treaty between Edmund and Canute. — 
Death of Edmund. — Accession of Canute.— Canute's wise policy. — His 
treatment of Edmund's children.— Canute marries Emma.— Opposition 
of her sons. — Emma again queen of England. — The Earl Godwin.— Ca- 
nute's death.— He bequeaths the kingdom to Harold.— Emma's plots for 
her children.— Her letter to them.— Disastrous issue of Alfred's expedi- 
tion.— His terrible sentence.— Edward's accession.— Emma wretched 
and miserable. — Accusations against Emma. — Her wretched end. — Ed- 
mund's children.— Godwin.— Harold.— Plans of Edward.— Plots and 
counterplots. 

IT IS not to be supposed that, even in the warlike 
times of which we are writing, such a potentate 
as a duke of Normandy would invade a country 
like England, so large and powerful in comparison to 
his own, without some pretext. William's pretext was, 
that he himself was the legitimate successor to the 
English crown, and that the English king who pos- 
sessed it at the time of his invasion was a usurper. 
In order that the reader may understand the nature 
(104) 



I002] THE LADY EMMA 105 

and origin of this his claim, it is necessary to relate 
somewhat in full the story of the Lady Emma. 

By referring to the genealogy of the Norman line 
of dukes contained in the second chapter of this vol- 
ume, it will be seen that Emma was the daughter of 
the first Richard. She was celebrated in her early 
years for her great personal beauty. They called her 
the Pearl of Normandy. 

She married, at length, one of the kings of England, 
whose name was Ethelred. England was at that time 
distracted by civil wars, waged between the two antago- 
nist races of Saxons and Danes. There were, in fact, 
two separate dynasties or lines of kings, who were 
contending, all the time, for the mastery. In these 
contests, sometimes the Danes would triumph for a 
time, and sometimes the Saxons; and sometimes both 
races would have a royal representative in the field, 
each claiming the throne, and reigning over separate 
portions of the island. Thus there were, at certain 
periods, two kingdoms in England, both covering the 
same territory, and claiming the government of the 
same population — with two kings, two capitals, two 
administrations — while the wretched inhabitants were 
distracted and ruined by the terrible conflicts to which 
these hostile pretensions gave rise. 

Ethelred was of the Saxon line. He was a wid- 
ower at the time of his marriage to Emma, nearly 
forty years old, and he had, among other children by 



io6 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

his former wife, a son named Edmund, an active, en- 
ergetic young man, who afterward became king. One 
motive which he had in view in marrying Emma was 
to strengthen his position by securing the alliance of 
the Normans of Normandy. The Danes, his English 
enemies, were Normans. The government of Normandy, 
would therefore be naturally inclined to take part with 
them. By this marriage, however, Ethelred hoped to 
detach the Normans of France from the cause of his 
enemies, and to unite them to his own. He would 
thus gain a double advantage, strengthening himself 
by an accession which weakened his foes. 

His plan succeeded so far as inducing Richard 
himself, the Duke of Normandy, to espouse his cause, 
but it did not enable Ethelred to triumph over his 
enemies. They, on the contrary, conquered him, and, 
in the end, drove him from the country altogether. 
He fled to Normandy for refuge, with Emma his 
wife, and his two young sons. Their names were 
Edward and Alfred. 

Richard II., Emma's brother, who was then the 
Duke of Normandy, received the unhappy fugitives 
with great kindness, although he, at least, scarcely 
deserved it. It was not surprising that he was 
driven from his native realm, for he possessed none 
of those high qualities of mind which fit men to 
conquer or to govern. Like all other weak-minded 
tyrants, he substituted cruelty for wisdom and en- 



I002] THE LADY EMMA 107 

ergy in his attempts to subjugate his foes. As soon 
as he was married to Emma, for instance, feeling 
elated and strong at the great accession of power 
which he imagined he had obtained by this alliance, 
he planned a general massacre of the Danes, and 
executed it on a given day, by means of private or- 
ders, sent secretly throughout the kingdom. Vast 
numbers of the Danes were destroyed; and so great 
was the hatred of the two races for each other, that 
they who had these bloody orders to obey executed 
them with a savage cruelty that was absolutely hor- 
rible. In one instance they buried women to the 
waist, and then set dogs upon them, to tear their 
naked flesh until they died in agony. It would be 
best, in narrating history, to suppress such horrid 
details as these, were it not that in a land like this, 
where so much depends upon the influence of every 
individual in determining whether the questions and 
discussions which are from time to time arising, and 
are hereafter to arise, shall be settled peacefully, or 
by a resort to violence and civil war, it is very im- 
portant that we should all know what civil war is, 
and to what horrible atrocities it inevitably leads. 

Alfred the Great, when he was contending with 
the Danes in England, a century before this time, 
treated them, so far as he gained advantages over 
them, with generosity and kindness; and this policy 
wholly conquered them in the end. Ethelred, on the 



io8 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

other hand, tried the effect of the most tyrannical 
cruelty, and the effect was only to arouse his enemies 
to a more determined and desperate resistance. It 
was the frensy of vengeance and hate that these 
atrocities awakened everywhere among the Danes, 
which nerved them with so much vigor and strength 
that they finally expelled him from the island; so 
that, when he arrived in Normandy, a fugitive and 
an exile, he came in the character of a dethroned 
tyrant, execrated for his senseless and atrocious cru- 
elties, and not in that of an unhappy prince driven 
from his home by the pressure of unavoidable ca- 
lamity. Nevertheless, Richard, the Duke of Nor- 
mandy, received him, as we have already said, with 
kindness. He felt the obligation of receiving the ex- 
iled monarch in a hospitable manner, if not on his 
own account, at least for the sake of Emma and the 
children. 

The origin and end of Emma's interest in Ethelred 
seems to have been merely ambition. The "Pearl of 
Normandy" had given herself to this monster for the 
sake, apparently, for the glory of being the English 
queen. Her subsequent conduct compels the readers 
of history to make this supposition, which otherwise 
would be uncharitable. She now mourned her disap- 
pointment in finding that, instead of being sustained 
by her husband in the lofty position to which she as- 
pired, she was obliged to come back to her former 



I002] THE LADY EMMA 109 

home again, to be once more dependent, and with 
the additional burden of her husband himself, and 
her children, upon her father's family. Her situation 
was rendered even still more humiliating, in some 
degree, by the circumstances that her father was no 
longer alive, and that it was to her brother, on whom 
her natural claim was far less strong, that she had 
now to look for shelter and protection. Richard, 
however, received them all in a kind and generous 
manner. 

In the mean time, the wars and commotions which 
had driven Ethelred away continued to rage in Eng- 
land, the Saxons gradually gaining ground against 
the Danes. At length the king of the Danes, who 
had seized the government when Ethelred was ex- 
pelled, died. The Saxons then regained their former 
power, and they sent commissioners to Ethelred to pro- 
pose his return to England. At the same time, they 
expressed their unwillingness to receive him, unless 
they could bind him, by a solemn treaty, to take a 
very different course of conduct, in the future man- 
agement of his government, from that which he had 
pursued before. Ethelred and Emma were eager to 
regain, on any terms, their lost throne. They sent 
over embassadors empowered to make, in Ethelred's 
name, any promises which the English nobles might 
demand; and shortly afterward the royal pair crossed 
the Channel and went to London, and Ethelred was 



no WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

acknowledged there by the Saxon portion of the 
population of the island, once more as king. 

The Danes, however, though weakened, were not 
yet disposed to submit. They declared their allegiance 
to Canute, who was the successor in the Danish line. 
Then followed a long war between Canute and Ethel- 
red. Canute was a man of extraordinary sagacity and 
intelligence, and also of great courage and energy. 
Ethelred, on the other hand, proved himself, notwith- 
standing all his promises, incurably inefficient, cow- 
ardly, and cruel. In fact, his son Prince Edmund, the 
son of his first wife, was far more efficient than his 
father in resisting Canute and the Danes. Edmund 
was active and fearless, and he soon acquired very 
extensive power. In fact, he seemed to have held the 
authority of his father in very little respect. One 
striking instance of this insubordination occurred. 
Ethelred had taken offense, for some reason or other, 
at one of the nobles in his realm, and had put him to 
death, and confiscated his estates; and, in addition to 
this, with a cruelty characteristic of him, he shut up 
the unhappy widow of his victim, a young and beau- 
tiful woman, in a gloomy convent, as a prisoner. Ed- 
mund, his son, went to the convent, liberated the 
prisoner, and made her his own wife. 

With such unfriendly relations between the king and 
his son, who seems to have been the ablest gen- 
eral in his father's army, there could be little hope of 



IOI7] THE LADY EMMA m 

making head against such an enemy as Canute the 
Dane. In fact, the course of public affairs went on 
from bad to worse, Emma leading all the time a life 
of unceasing anxiety and alarm. At length, in 1016, 
Ethelred died, and Emma's cup of disappointment and 
humiliation was now full. Her own sons, Edward 
and Alfred, had no claims to the crown; for Edmund, 
being the son by a former marriage, was older than 
they. They were too young to take personally an ac- 
tive part in the fierce contests of the day, and thus 
fight their way to importance and power. And then, 
Edmund, who was now to become king, would, of 
course, feel no interest in advancing them, or doing 
honor to her. A son who would thwart and coun- 
teract the plans and measures of a father, as Edmund 
had done, would be little likely to evince much defer- 
ence or regard for a mother-in-law, or for half-broth- 
ers, whom he would naturally consider as his rivals. In 
a word, Emma had reason to be alarmed at the situa- 
tion of insignificance and danger in which she found 
herself suddenly placed. She fled a second time, in 
destitution and distress, to her brother's in Normandy. 
She was now, however, a widow, and her children 
were fatherless. It is difficult to decide whether to 
consider her situation as better or worse on this ac- 
count than it was at her former exile. 

Her sons were lads, but little advanced beyond 
the period of childhood; and Edward, the eldest, on 



112 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

whom the duty of making exertions to advance the 
family interests would first devolve, was of a quiet 
and gentle spirit, giving little promise that he would 
soon be disposed to enter vigorously upon military 
campaigns. Edmund, on the other hand, who was 
now king, was in the prime of hfe, and was a man 
of great spirit and energy. There was a reasonable 
prospect that he would live many years; and even if 
he were to be suddenly cut off, there seemed to be 
no hope of the restoration of Emma to importance or 
power; for Edmund was married and had two sons, 
one of whom would be entitled to succeed him in 
case of his decease. It seemed, therefore, to be Em- 
ma's destiny now, to spend the remainder of her days 
with her children in neglect and obscurity. The 
case resulted differently, however, as we shall see in 
the end. 

Edmund, notwithstanding his prospect of a long 
and prosperous career, was cut off suddenly, after a 
stormy reign of one year. During his reign, Canute 
the Dane had been fast gaining ground in England, 
notwithstanding the vigor and energy with which 
Edmund had opposed him. Finally, the two mon- 
archs assembled their armies, and were about to fight 
a great final battle. Edmund sent a flag of truce to 
Canute's camp, proposing that, to save the effusion 
of blood, they should agree to decide the case by 
single combat, and that he and Canute should be 



loiy] THE LADY EMMA 113 

the champions, and fight in presence of the armies. 
Canute declined this proposal. He was himself small 
and slender in form, while Edmund was distinguished 
for his personal development and muscular strength. 
Canute therefore declined the personal contest, but 
offered to leave the question to the decision of a coun- 
cil chosen from among the leading nobles on either 
side. This plan was finally adopted. The council 
convened, and, after long deliberations, they framed 
a treaty by which the country was divided between 
the two potentates, and a sort of peace was restored. 
A very short period after this treaty was settled, Ed- 
mund was murdered. 

Canute immediately laid claim to the whole realm. 
He maintained that it was a part of the treaty that 
the partition of the kingdom was to continue only 
during their joint lives, and that, on the death of 
either, the whole was to pass to the survivor. The 
Saxon leaders did not admit this, but they were in 
no condition very strenuously to oppose it. Ethel- 
red's sons by Emma were too young to come for- 
ward as leaders yet; and as to Edmund's, they were 
mere children. There was, therefore, no one whom 
they could produce as an efficient representative of 
the Saxon line, and thus the Saxons were compelled 
to submit to Canute's pretensions, at least for a time. 
They would not wholly give up the claims of Ed- 
mund's children, but they consented to waive them 

M. of H.— 12-8 



114 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

for a season. They gave Canute the guardianship of 
the boys until they should become of age, and al- 
lowed him, in the mean time, to reign, himself, over 
the whole land. 

Canute exercised his power in a very discreet and 
judicious manner, seeming intent, in all his arrange- 
ments, to protect the rights and interests of the Sax- 
ons as well as of the Danes, it might be supposed 
that the lives of the young Saxon princes, Edmund's 
sons, would not have been safe in his hands; but 
the policy which he immediately resolved to pur- 
sue was to conciliate the Saxons, and not to intimi- 
date and coerce them. He therefore did the young 
children no harm, but sent them away out of the 
country to Denmark, that they might, if possible, be 
gradually forgotten. Perhaps he thought that, if the 
necessity should arise for it, they might there, at 
any time, be put secretly to death. 

There was another reason still to prevent Ca- 
nute's destroying these children, which was, that if 
they were removed, the claims of the Saxon line 
would not thereby be extinguished, but would only 
be transferred to Emma's children in Norn^andy, who, 
being older, were likely the sooner to be in a con- 
dition to give him trouble as rivals. It was there- 
fore a very wise and sagacious policy which prompted 
him to keep the young children of Edmund alive, but 
to remove them to a safe distance out of the way. 



IOI7-37] THE LADY EMMA 115 

In respect to Emma's children, Canute conceived a 
different plan for guarding against any danger which 
came from their claims, and that was, to propose to 
take their mother for his wife. By this plan her 
family would come into his power, and then her 
own influence and that of her Norman friends would 
be forever prevented from taking sides against him. 
He accordingly made the proposal. Emma was am- 
bitious enough of again returning to her former po- 
sition of greatness as English queen, to accept it 
eagerly. The world condemned her for being so 
ready to marry, for her second husband, the deadly 
enemy and rival of the first; but it was all one to 
her whether her husband was Saxon or Dane, pro- 
vided that she could be queen. 

The boys, or, rather, the young men, for they 
were now advancing to maturity, were very strongly 
opposed to this connection. They did all in their 
power to prevent its consummation, and they never 
forgave their mother for thus basely betraying their 
interests. They were the more incensed at this trans- 
action, because it was stipulated in the marriage 
articles between Canute and Emma that their future 
children — the offspring of the marriage then con- 
tracted — should succeed to the throne of England, to 
the exclusion of all previously born on either side. 
Thus Canute fancied that he had secured his title, 
and that of his descendants, to the crown forever, 



ii6 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

and Emma prepared to return to England as once 
more its queen. The marriage was celebrated with 
great pomp and splendor, and Emma, bidding Nor- 
mandy and her now alienated children farewell, was 
conducted in state to the royal palace in London. 

We must now pass over, with a very few words, 
a long interval of twenty years. It was the period of 
Canute's reign, which was prosperous and peaceful. 
During this period Emma's Norman sons continued in 
Normandy. She had another son in England a few 
years after her marriage, who was named Canute, 
after his father, but he is generally known in history 
by the name of Hardicanute, the prefix being a 
Saxon word denoting energetic or strong. Canute 
had also a very celebrated minister in his government 
named Godwin. Godwin was a Saxon of a very hum- 
ble origin, and the history of his life constitutes quite 
a romantic tale.* He was a man of extraordinary 
talents and character, and at the time of Canute's 
death he was altogether the most powerful subject in 
the realm. 

When Canute found that he was about to die, 
and began to consider what arrangements he should 
make for the succession, he concluded that it would 
not be safe for him to fulfill the agreement made in 
his marriage contract with Emma, that the children 

* It is given at length in the last chapter ot our history of Alfred 
THE Great. 



10371 THE LADY EMMA 117 

of that marriage should inherit the kingdom; for 
Hardicanute, who was entitled to succeed under that 
covenant, was only about sixteen or seventeen years 
old, and consequently too young to attempt to gov- 
ern. He therefore made a will, in which he left the 
kingdom to an older son, named Harold — a son whom 
he had had before his marriage with Emma. This 
was the signal for a new struggle. The influence of 
the Saxons and of Emma's friends was of course in 
favor of Hardicanute, while the Danes espoused the 
cause of Harold. Godwin at length taking sides with 
this last-named party, Harold was established on the 
throne, and Emma and all her children, whether de- 
scended from Ethelred or Canute, were set aside and 
forgotten. 

Emma was not at all disposed to acquiesce in 
this change of fortune. She remained in England, 
but was secretly incensed at her second husband's 
breach of faith toward her; and as he had abandoned 
the child of his marriage with her for his former 
children, she now determined to abandon him for 
hers. She gave up Hardicanute's cause, therefore, and 
began secretly to plot among the Saxon population 
for bringing forward her son Edward to the throne. 
When she thought that things were ripe for the exe- 
cution of the plot, she wrote a letter to her children 
in Normandy, saying to them that the Saxon popula- 
tion were weary of the Danish line, and were ready, 



ii8 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

she believed, to rise in behalf of the ancient Saxon 
line, if the true representative of it would appear to 
lead them. She therefore invited them to come to 
London and consult with her on the subject. She 
directed them, however, to come, if they came at all, 
in a quiet and peaceful manner, and without any ap- 
pearance of hostile intent, inasmuch as any thing 
which might seem like a foreign invasion would 
awaken universal jealousy and alarm. 

When this letter was received by the brothers in 
Normandy, the eldest, Edward, declined to go, but 
gave his consent that Alfred should undertake the ex- 
pedition if he were disposed. Alfred accepted the 
proposal. In fact, the temperament and character of 
the two brothers were very different. Edward was 
sedate, serious, and timid. Alfred was ardent and 
aspiring. The younger, therefore, decided to take the 
risk of crossing the Channel, while the elder preferred 
to remain at home. 

The result was very disastrous. Contrary to his 
mother's instructions, Alfred took with him quite a 
troop of Norman soldiers. He crossed the Channel in 
safety, and advanced across the country some distance 
toward London. Harold sent out a force to intercept 
him. He was surrounded, and he himself and all his 
followers were taken prisoners. He was sentenced to 
lose his eyes, and he died in a few days after the execu- 
tion of this terrible sentence, from the mingled effects 



I037] THE LADY EMMA 119 

of fever and of mental anguish and despair. Emma 
fled to Flanders. 

Finally Harold died, and Hardicanute succeeded 
him. In a short time Hardicanute died, leaving no 
heirs, and now, of course, there was no one left* to 
compete with Emma's oldest son Edward, who had 
remained all this time quietly in Normandy. He was 
accordingly proclaimed king. This was in 1041. He 
reigned for twenty years, having commenced his reign 
about the time that William the Conqueror was estab- 
lished in the possession of his dominions as Duke of 
Normandy. Edward had known William intimately, 
during his long residence in Normandy, and William 
came to visit him in England in the course of his 
reign. William, in fact, considered himself as Ed- 
ward's heir; for as Edward, though married, had no 
children, the dukes of the Norman line were his near- 
est relatives. He obtained, he said, a promise from 
Edward that Edward would sanction and confirm his 
claim to the English crown, in the event of his de- 
cease, by bequeathing it to William in his will. 

Emma was now advanced in years. The ambition 
which had been the ruling principle of her life would 
seem to have been well satisfied, so far as it is pos- 
sible to satisfy ambition, for she had had two hus- 
bands and two sons, all kings of England. But as 

*The children of Ethelred's oldest son, Edmund, were in Hun- 
gary at this time, and seem to have been wellnigh forgotten. 



I20 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

she advanced toward the close of her career, she 
found herself wretched and miserable. Her son Ed- 
ward could not forgive her for her abandonment of 
himself and his brother, to marry a man who was 
their own and their father's bitterest enemy. She 
had made a formal treaty in her marriage covenant to 
exclude them from the throne. She had treated them 
with neglect during all the time of Canute's reign, 
while she was living with him in London in power 
and splendor. Edward accused her, also, of having 
connived at his brother Alfred's death. The story is, 
that he caused her to be tried on this charge by the 
ordeal of fire. This method consisted of laying red- 
hot irons upon the stone floor of a church at certain 
distances from each other, and requiring the accused 
to walk over them with naked feet. If the accused 
was innocent. Providence as they supposed, would 
so guide his footsteps that he should not touch the 
irons. Thus, if he was innocent, he would go over 
safely; if guilty, he would be burned. Emma, accord- 
ing to the story of the times, was subjected to this 
test, in the Cathedral of Winchester, to determine 
whether she was cognizant of the murder of her son. 
Whether this is true or not, there is no doubt that 
Edward confined her a prisoner in the monastery at 
Winchester, where she ended her days at last in 
neglect and wretchedness. 

When Edward himself drew near to the close of 



1052] THE LADY EMMA 121 

his life, his mind was greatly perplexed in respect to 
the succession. There was one descendant of his 
brother Edmund — whose children, it will be remem- 
bered, Canute had sent away to Denmark, in order to 
remove them out of the way — who was still living 
in Hungary. The name of this descendant was Ed- 
ward. He was, in fact, the lawful heir to the crown. 
But he had spent his life in foreign countries and was 
now far away; and, in the mean time, the Earl God- 
win, who has been already mentioned as the great 
Saxon nobleman who rose from a very humble rank 
to the position of the most powerful subject in the 
realm, obtained such an influence, and wielded so 
great a power, that he seemed at one time stronger 
than the king himself. Godwin at length died, but 
his son Harold, who was as energetic and active as 
his father, inherited his power, and seemed, as Ed- 
ward thought, to be aspiring to the future possession 
of the throne. Edward had hated Godwin and all 
his family, and was now extremely anxious to pre- 
vent the possibility of Harold's accession. He accord- 
ingly sent to Hungary to bring Edward, his nephew, 
home. Edward came, bringing his family with him. 
He had a young son named Edgar. It was King 
Edward's plan to make arrangements for bringing this 
Prince Edward to the throne after his death, that 
Harold might be excluded. 

The plan was a very judicious one, but it was 



122 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

unfortunately frustrated by Prince Edward's death, 
which event took place soon after he arrived in 
England. The young Edgar, then a child, was, of 
course, his heir. The king was convinced that no 
government which could be organized in the name 
of Edgar would be able to resist the mighty power 
of Harold, and he turned his thoughts, therefore, 
again to the accession of William of Normandy, who 
was the nearest relative on his mother's side, as the 
only means of saving the realm from falling into the 
hands of the usurper Harold. A long and vexatious 
contest then ensued, in which the leading powers and 
influences of the kingdom were divided and distracted 
by the plans, plots, maneuvers, and counter man- 
euvers of Harold to obtain the accession for himself, 
and of Edward to secure it for William of Normandy. 
In this contest Harold conquered in the first instance, 
and Edward and William in the end. 




CHAPTER VII. 
King Harold. 

Harold and William.— Quarrel between Godwin and Edward.— Treaty be- 
tween Godwin and Edward.— Hostages. — The giving of hostages now 
abandoned. — Cruelties inflicted.— Canute's hostages. — Godwin's hos- 
tages. — Edward declines to give up the Postages.— Harold goes to Nor- 
mandy. — Harold's interview with Edward. — The storm. — Harold ship- 
wrecked. — Guy, count of Ponthieu. — Harold a prisoner. — He is ran- 
somed by William. — William's hospitality.— His policy in this. — Wil- 
liam's treatment of his guests. — Excursion to Brittany.— Harold's 
talents. — William's policy.— William makes known to Harold his claims 
to the English crown. — Harold's dissimulation. — William's precautions. 

— The betrothment. — William retains a hostage. — Harold's apparent ac- 
quiescence. — The public oath. — The great assembly of knights and 
nobles. — The threefold oath. — William's precaution. — The sacred relics. 

— Harold's departure. — His measures to secure the throne. — Age and 
infirmities of Edward. — Westminster. — Edward's death. — The crown 
offered to Harold. — Harold's coronation. — He knights Edgar. — Harold 
violates his plighted faith to William. 

HAROLD, the son of Earl Godwin, who was 
maneuvering to gain possession of the Eng- 
lish throne, and William of Normandy, 
though they lived on opposite sides of the English 
Channel, the one in France and the other in England, 
were still personally known to each other; for not 
only had William, as was stated in the last chapter, 

(•23) 



124 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

paid a visit to England, but Harold himself, on one 
occasion, made an excursion to Normandy. The cir- 
cumstances of this expedition were, in some respects, 
quite extraordinary, and illustrate in a striking man- 
ner some of the peculiar ideas and customs of the 
times. They were as follows: 

During the life of Harold's father, Godwin, there 
was a very serious quarrel between him, that is, God- 
win, and King Edward, in which both the king and 
his rebellious subject marshaled their forces, and for a 
time waged against each other an open and sanguin- 
ary war. In this contest the power of Godwin had 
proved so formidable, and the military forces which 
he succeeded in marshaling under his banners were so 
great, that Edward's government was unable effectu- 
ally to put him down. At length, after a long and 
terrible struggle, which involved a large part of the 
country in the horrors of a civil war, the belligerents 
made a treaty with each other, which settled their 
quarrel by a sort of compromise. Godwin was to re- 
tain his high position and rank as a subject, and to 
continue in the government of certain portions of the 
island which had long been under his jurisdiction; he, 
on his part, promising to dismiss his armies, and to 
make war upon the king no more. He bound himself 
to the faithful performance of these covenants by giv- 
ing the king hostages. 

The hostages given up on such occasions were 



1063] KING HAROLD 125 

always near and dear relatives and friends, and the 
understanding was, that if the party giving them failed 
in fulfilling his obligations, the innocent and helpless 
hostages were to be entirely at the mercy of the other 
party into whose custody they had been given. The 
latter would, in such cases, imprison them, torture 
them, or put them to death, with a greater or less 
degree of severity in respect to the infliction of pain, 
according to the degree of exasperation which the 
real or fancied injury which he had received, awak- 
ened in his mind. 

This cruel method of binding fierce and unprinci- 
pled men to the performance of their promises, has 
been universally abandoned in modern times, though 
in the rude and early stages of civilization it has been 
practiced among all nations, ancient and modern. 
The hostages chosen were often of young and tender 
years, and were always such as to render the separa- 
tion which took place when they were torn from their 
friends, most painful, as it was the very object of the 
selection to obtain those who were most beloved. 
They were delivered into the hands of those whom 
they had always regarded as their bitterest enemies 
and who, of course, were objects of aversion and terror. 
They were sent away into places of confinement and 
seclusion, and kept in the custody of strangers, where 
they lived in perpetual fear that some new outbreak 
between the contending parties would occur, and con- 



126 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

sign them to the torture or death. The cruelties some- 
times inflicted, in such cases, on the innocent hostages, 
were awful. At one time, during the contentions be- 
tween Ethelred and Canute, Canute, being driven 
across the country to the sea coast, and there com- 
pelled to embark on board his ships to make his es- 
cape, was cruel enough to cut off the hands and the 
feet of some hostages whom Ethelred had previously 
given him, and leave them writhing in agony on the 
sands of the shore. 

The hostages which are particularly named by 
historians as given by Godwin to King Edward, were 
his son and his grandson. Their names were Ul- 
noth and Hacune, Ulnoth, of course, was Harold's 
brother, and Hacune his nephew. Edward, thinking 
that Godwin would contrive some means of getting 
these hostages back into his possession again, if he 
attempted to keep them in England, decided to send 
them to Normandy, and to put them under the charge 
of William the duke, for safe keeping. When God- 
win died, Harold applied to Edward to give up the 
hostages, since, as he alleged, there was no longer 
any reason for detaining them. They had been given 
as security for Godwin's good behavior, and now 
Godwin was no more. 

Edward could not well refuse to surrender them 
and yet, as Harold succeeded to the power, and ev- 
idently possessed all the ambition of his father, it 



1064] KING HAROLD 127 

seemed to be, politically, as necessary to retain the 
hostages now as it had been before. Edward, there- 
fore, without absolutely refusing to surrender them, 
postponed and evaded compliance with Harold's de- 
mand, on the ground that the hostages were in Nor- 
mandy. He was going, he said, to send for them 
as soon as he could make the necessary arrange- 
ments for bringing them home in safety. 

Under these circumstances, Harold determined to 
go and bring them himself. He proposed this plan 
to Edward. Edward would not absolutely refuse his 
consent, but he did all in his power to discourage 
such an expedition. He told Harold that William of 
Normandy was a crafty and powerful man; that by 
going into his dominions he would put himself en- 
tirely into his power, and would be certain to involve 
himself in some serious difficulty. 

What effect Edward's disavowal of the project 
produced upon Harold's mind is not certainly known. 
It is true that he went across the Channel, but the 
accounts of the crossing are confused and contradict- 
ory, some of them stating that, while sailing for 
pleasure with a party of attendants and companions 
on the coast, he was blown off from the shore and 
driven across to France by a storm. The probability, 
however, is, that this story was only a pretense. He 
was determined to go, but not wishing to act openly 
in defiance of the king's wishes, he contrived to be 



128 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

blown off, in order to make it seem that he went 
against his will. 

At all events the storm was real, whether his be- 
ing compelled to leave the English shores by the 
power of it was real or pretended. It carried him, too, 
out of his course, driving him up the Channel to the 
eastward of Normandy, where he had intended to land, 
and at length throwing his galley, a wreck, on the 
shore, not far from the mouth of the Somme. The 
galley itself was broken up, but Harold and his com- 
pany escaped to land. They found that they were in 
the dominions of a certain prince who held posses- 
sions on that coast, whose style and title was Guy, 
Count of Ponthieu. 

The law in those days was, that wrecks became 
the property of the lord of the territory on the shores 
of which they occurred; and not only were the ships 
and the goods which they contained thus confiscated 
in case of such a disaster, but the owners themselves 
became liable to be seized and held captive for a ran- 
som. Harold, knowing his danger, was attempting 
to secrete himself on the coast till he could get to 
Normandy, when a fisherman who saw him, and knew 
by his dress and appearance, and by the deference 
with which he was treated by the rest of the com- 
pany, that he was a man of great consequence in his 
native land, went to the count, and said that for ten 
crowns he would show him where there was a man 



1064] KING HAROLD 129 

who would be worth a thousand to him. The count 
came down with his retinue to the coast, seized the 
unfortunate adventurers, took possession of all the 
goods and baggage that the waves had spared, and 
shut the men themselves up in his castle at Abbeville 
till they could pay their ransom. 

Harold remonstrated against this treatment. He 
said that he was on his way to Normandy on busi- 
ness of great importance with the duke, from the 
King of England, and that he could not be detained. 
But the count was very decided in refusing to let 
him go without his ransom. Harold then sent word 
to William, acquainting him with his situation, and 
asking him to effect his release. William sent to the 
count, demanding that he should give his prisoner 
up. All these things, however, only tended to ele- 
vate and enlarge the count's ideas of the value and 
importance of the prize which he had been so for- 
tunate to secure. He persisted in refusing to give 
him up without ransom. Finally William paid the 
ransom, in the shape of a large sum of money, and 
the cession, in addition, of a considerable territory, 
Harold and his companions in bondage were then de- 
hvered to William's messengers, and conducted by 
them in safety to Rouen, where William was then 
residing, 

William received his distinguished guest with every 
possible mark of the most honorable consideration. 

M. of H.— 13--9 



I30 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

He was escorted with great parade and ceremony 
into the palace, lodged in the most sumptuous man- 
ner, provided with every necessary supply, and games 
and military spectacles, and feasts and entertainments 
without number, were arranged to celebrate his visit. 
William informed him that he was at liberty to return 
to England whenever he pleased, and that his brother 
and his nephew, the hostages that he had come to 
seek were at his disposal. He, however, urged him 
not to return immediately, but to remain a short time 
in Normandy with his companions. Harold accepted 
the invitation. 

All this exuberance of hospitality had its origin, 
as the reader will readily divine, in the duke's joy in 
finding the only important rival likely to appear to 
contest his claims to the English crown, so fully in 
his power, and in the hope which he entertained of 
so managing affairs at this visit as to divert Harold's 
mind from the idea of becoming the King of England 
himself, and to induce him to pledge himself to act 
in his, that is, WiUiam's favor. He took, therefore, 
all possible pains to make him enjoy his visit in Nor- 
mandy; he exhibited to him the wealth and the re- 
sources of the country — conducting him from place 
to place to visit the castles, the abbeys, and the 
towns — and, finally, he proposed that he should ac- 
company him on a military expedition into Brittany. 

Harold, pleased with the honors conferred upon 



1064] KING HAROLD 131 

him, and with the novelty and magnificence of the 
scenes to which he was introduced, entered heartily 
into all these plans, and his companions and attend- 
ants were no less pleased than he. William knighted 
many of these followers of Harold, and made them 
costly presents of horses, and banners, and suits of 
armor, and other such gifts as were calculated to cap- 
tivate the hearts of martial adventurers such as they. 
William soon gained an entire ascendency over their 
minds, and when he invited them to accompany him 
on his expedition into Brittany, they were all eager 
to go. 

Brittany was west of Normandy, and on the fron- 
tiers of it, so that the expedition was not a distant 
one. Nor was it long protracted. It was, in fact, a 
sort of pleasure excursion, William taking his guest 
across the frontier into his neighbor's territory, on a 
marauding party, just as a nobleman, in modern times, 
would take a party into a forest to hunt. William 
and Harold were on the most intimate and friendly 
terms possible during the continuance of this campaign. 
They occupied the same tent, and ate at the same 
table. Harold evinced great military talent and much 
bravery in the various adventures which they met 
with in Brittany, and William felt more than ever the 
desirableness of securing his influence on his, that is, 
William's side, or, at least, of preventing his becom- 
ing an open rival and enemy. On their return from 



132 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Brittany into Normandy, he judged that the time had 
arrived for taking his measures. He accordingly 
resolved to come to an open understanding with Har- 
old in respect to his plans, and to seek his co-opera- 
tion. 

He introduced the subject, the historians say, one 
day, as they were riding along homeward from their 
excursion, and had been for some time talking famil- 
iarly on the way, relating tales to one another of wars, 
battles, sieges, and hair-breadth escapes, and other such 
adventures as formed, generally, the subjects of nar- 
rative conversation in those days. At length Wil- 
liam, finding Harold, as he judged, in a favorable 
mood for such a communication, introduced the sub- 
ject of the English realm and the approaching demise 
of the crown. He told him, confidentially, that there 
had been an arrangement between him, William, and 
King Edward, for some time, that Edward was to 
adopt him as his successor. William told Harold, 
moreover, that he should rely a great deal on his co- 
operation and assistance in getting peaceable posses- 
sion of the kingdom, and promised to bestow upon 
him the very highest rewards and honors in return, if 
he would give him his aid. The only rival claimant, 
William said, was the young child Edgar, and he had 
no friends, no party, no military forces, and no means 
whatever for maintaining his pretensions. On the 
other hand, he, William, and Harold, had obviously all 



1064] KING HAROLD 133 

the power in their own hands, and if they could only 
co-operate together on a common understanding, they 
would be sure to have the power and the honors of 
the English realm entirely at their disposal. 

Harold listened to all these suggestions, and pre- 
tended to be interested and pleased. He was in reality, 
interested, but he was not pleased. He wished to 
secure the kingdom for himself, not merely to obtain 
a share, however large, of its power and its honors 
as the subject of another. He was, however, too 
wary to evince his displeasure. On the contrary, he 
assented to the plan, professed to enter into it with 
all his heart, and expressed his readiness to commence, 
immediately, the necessary preliminary measures for 
carrying it into execution. William was much grati- 
fied with the successful result of his negotiation, and 
the two chieftains rode home to William's palace in 
Normandy, banded together, apparently, by very strong 
ties. In secret, however, Harold was resolving to 
effect his departure from Normandy as soon as possi- 
ble, and to make immediate and most effectual meas- 
ures for securing the kingdom of England to himself, 
without any regard to the promises that he had made 
to William. 

Nor must it be supposed that William himself 
placed any positive reliance on mere promises from 
Harold. He immediately began to form plans for 
binding him to the performance of his stipulations, 



134 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

by the modes then commonly employed for securing 
the fulfillment of covenants made among princes. 
These methods were three — intermarriages, the giv- 
ing of hostages, and solemn oaths. 

William proposed two marriages as means of 
strengthening the alliance between himself and Harold. 
Harold was to give to William one of his daughters, 
that William might marry her to one of his Norman 
chieftains. This would be, of course, placing her in 
WiUiam's power, and making her a hostage all but in 
name. Harold, however, consented. The second mar- 
riage proposed was between William's daughter and 
Harold himself; but as his daughter was a child of only 
seven years of age, it could only be a betrothment 
that could take place at that time. Harold acceded to 
this proposal too, and arrangements were made for 
having the faith of the parties pledged to one an- 
other in the most solemn manner. A great assembly 
of all the knights, nobles, and ladies of the court was 
convened, and the ceremony of pledging the troth be- 
tween the fierce warrior and the gentle and wonder- 
ing child, was performed with as much pomp and 
parade as if it had been an actual wedding. The 
name of the girl was Adela. 

In respect to hostages, William determined to detain 
one of those whom Harold, as will be recollected, 
had come into Normandy to recover. He told him, 
therefore, that he might take with him his nephew 



1064] KING HAROLD 135 

Hacune, but that Ulnoth, his brother, should remain, 
and William would bring him over, himself, when he 
came to take possession of the kingdom. Harold was 
extremely unwilling to leave his brother thus in Wil- 
liam's power; but as he knew very well that his being 
allowed to return to England himself would depend 
upon his not evincing any reluctance to giving WiL 
liam security, or manifesting any other indication that 
he was not intending to keep his plighted faith, he 
readily consented, and it was thus settled that Ulnoth 
should remain. 

Finally, in order to hold Harold to the fulfillment 
of his promises by every possible form of obligation, 
William proposed that he should take a public and 
solemn oath, in the presence of a large assembly of all 
the great potentates and chieftains of the realm, by 
which he should bind himself, under the most awful 
sanctions, to keep his word. Harold made no objec- 
tions to this either. He considered himself as, in fact, 
in duress, and his actions as not free. He was in Wil- 
liam's power, and was influenced in all he did by a 
desire to escape from Normandy, and once more re- 
cover his liberty. He accordingly decided, in his own 
mind, that whatever oaths he might take he should 
afterward consider as forced upon him, and conse- 
quently as null and void, and was ready, therefore, to 
take any that William might propose. 

The great assembly was accordingly convened. In 



136 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

the middle of the council hall there was placed a great 
chair of state, which was covered with a cloth of 
gold. Upon this cloth, and raised considerably above 
the seat, was the missal, that is, the book of service 
of the Catholic Church, written on parchment and 
splendidly illuminated. The book was open at a pas- 
sage from one of the Evangelists — the Evangelists 
being a portion of the Holy Scriptures which was, in 
those days, supposed to invest an oath with the most 
solemn sanctions. 

Harold felt some slight misgivings as he advanced 
in the midst of such an imposing scene as the great 
assembly of knights and ladies presented in the 
council hall, to repeat his promises in the very pres- 
ence of God, and to imprecate the retributive curses 
of the Almighty on the violation of them, which he 
was deliberately and fully determined to incur. He 
had, however, gone too far to retreat now. He ad- 
vanced, therefore, to the open missal, laid his hand 
upon the book, and, repeating the words which Wil- 
liam dictated to him from his throne, he took the 
threefold oath required, namely, to aid William to the 
utmost of his power in his attempt to secure the suc- 
cession to the English crown, to marry William's 
daughter Adela as soon as she should arrive at a 
suitable age, and to send over forthwith from Eng- 
land his own daughter, that she might be espoused to 
one of WiUiam's nobles. 



1064] KING HAROLD 137 

As soon as the oath was thus taken, William caused 
the missal and the cloth of gold to be removed, and 
there appeared beneath it, on the chair of state, a chest, 
containing the sacred relics of the Church, which 
William had secretly collected from the abbeys and 
monasteries of his dominions, and placed in this con- 
cealment, that, without Harold's being conscious of it, 
their dreadful sanction might be added to that which 
the Holy Evangelists imposed. These relics were 
fragments of bones set in caskets and frames, and por- 
tions of blood — relics, as the monks alleged, of apos- 
tles, or of the Savior — and small pieces of wood, sim- 
ilarly preserved, which had been portions of the cross 
of Christ or of his thorny crown. These things were 
treasured up with great solemnity in the monastic estab- 
lishments and in the churches of these early times, and 
were regarded with a veneration and awe, of which 
it is almost beyond our power even to conceive. 
Harold trembled when he saw what he had unwit- 
tingly done. He was terrified to think how much 
more dreadful was the force of the imprecations that 
he had uttered, than he had imagined while uttering 
them. But it was too late to undo what he had done. 
The assembly was finally dismissed. William thought 
he had the conscience of his new ally firmly secured, 
and Harold began to prepare for leaving Normandy. 

He continued on excellent terms with William 
until his departure. William accompanied him to the 



138 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

sea shore when the' time of his embarkation arrived, 
and dismissed him at last with many farewell hon- 
ors, and a profusion of presents. Harold set sail, 
and, crossing the Channel in safety, he landed in 
England. 

He commenced immediately an energetic system 
of measures to strengthen his own cause, and pre- 
pare the way for his own accession. He organized 
his party, collected arms and munitions of war, and 
did all that he could to ingratiate himself with the 
most powerful and wealthy nobles. He sought the 
favor of the king, too, and endeavored to persuade 
him to discard William. The king was now old and 
infirm, and was growing more and more inert and 
gloomy as he advanced in age. His mind was occu- 
pied altogether in ecclesiastical rites and observances, 
or plunged in a torpid and lifeless melancholy, which 
made him very averse to giving any thought to the 
course which the affairs of his kingdom were to take 
after he was gone. He did not care whether Harold 
or WiUiam took the crown when he laid it aside, 
provided they would allow him to die in peace. 

He had had, a few years previous to this time, a 
plan of making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but had 
finally made an arrangement with the pope, allowing 
him to build a Cathedral church, to be dedicated to 
St. Peter, a few miles west of London, in lieu of his 
pilgrimage. There was already a Cathedral church or 



1064] KING HAROLD 139 

minster in the heart of London which was dedicated 
to St. Paul. The new one was afterward often 
called, to distinguish it from the other, the west min- 
ster, which designation, Westminster, became after- 
ward its regular name. It was on this spot, where 
Westminster Abbey now stands, that Edward's church 
was to be built. It was just completed at the time 
of which we are speaking, and the king was prepar- 
ing for the dedication of it. He summoned an as- 
sembly of all the prelates and great ecclesiastical 
dignitaries of the land to convene at London, in order 
to dedicate the new Cathedral. Before they were 
ready for service, the king was taken suddenly sick. 
They placed him upon his couch in his palace cham- 
ber, where he lay, restless, and moaning in pain, and 
repeating incessantly, half in sleep and half in de- 
lirium, the gloomy and threatening texts of Scripture 
which seemed to haunt his mind. He was eager to 
have the dedication go on, and they hastened the 
service in order to gratify him by having it performed 
before he died. The next day he was obviously 
failing. Harold and his friends were very earnest to 
have the departing monarch declare in his favor before 
he died, and their coming and going, and their loud 
discussions, rude soldiers as they were, disturbed his 
dying hours. He sent them word to choose whom 
they would for king, duke or earl, it was indifferent 
to him, and thus he expired. 



I40 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Harold had made his arrangements so well, and 
had managed so effectually to secure the influence of 
all the powerful nobles of the kingdom, that they 
immediately convened and offered him the crown. 
Edgar was in the court of Edward at the time, but 
he was too young to make any effort to advance 
his claims. He was, in fact, a foreigner, though in 
the English royal line. He had been brought up on 
the Continent of Europe, and could not even speak 
the English tongue. He acquiesced, therefore, with- 
out complaint, in these proceedings, and was even 
present as a consenting spectator on the occasion of 
Harold's coronation, which ceremony was performed 
with great pomp and parade, at St. Paul's, in Lon- 
don, very soon after King Edward's death. Harold 
rewarded Edgar for his complaisance and discretion, 
by conferring upon him the honor of knighthood im- 
mediately after the coronation, and in the church where 
the ceremony was performed. He also conferred sim- 
ilar distinctions and honors upon many other aspir- 
ing and ambitious men whom he wished to secure 
to his side. He thus seemed to have secure and set- 
tled possession of the throne. 

Previously to this time, Harold had married a 
young lady of England, a sister of two very power- 
ful noblemen, and the richest heiress in the realm. 
This marriage greatly strengthened his influence in 
England, and helped to prepare the way for his ac- 



io66] KING HAROLD 141 

cession to the supreme power. The tidings of it, 
however, when they crossed the Channel and reached 
the ears of William of Normandy, as the act was an 
open and deliberate violation of one of the covenants 
which Harold had made with William, convinced the 
latter that none of these covenants would be kept, 
and prepared him to expect all that afterward fol- 
lowed. 




CHAPTER VIII. 
The Preparations. 

Harold's brother Tostig. — He brings intelligence of Harold's accession. 

— William's strength and dexterity.— His surprise. — Fitzosborne. — His 
interview with William. — The great council of state. — The embassy to 
Harold. — Harold reminded of his promises. — His replies. — Return of 
the messenger. — William prepares for war.— William calls a general 
council. — Want of funds. — Means of raising money. — Adverse views. 

— Various opinions. — Confusion and disorder. — Plan of Fitzosborne. 

— It is adopted by William. — Success of Fitzosborne's plan. — Supplies 
flow in liberally. — Embassage to the pope. — It's success. — Reasons why 
the pope favored William's claims. — The banner and the ring. — Excite- 
ment produced by their reception. — William's proclamations. — Their 
effects. — William's promises. — Naval preparations. — Philip, King of 
France. — William's visit to him. — William's interview with Philip. 

— Philip opposes his plans. — Council of nobles. — Result of their deliber- 
ations. — William's return. — Final preparations.— Matilda made duchess 
regent. — William's motives. — Republican sentiments.— Hereditary sov- 
ereigns.— Enthusiasm of the people. — The two-tailed comet. 

THE messenger who brought William the tidings 
of Harold's accession to the throne was a 
man named Tostig, Harold's brother. Though 
he was Harold's brother, he was still his bitterest 
enemy. Brothers are seldom friends in families where 
there is a crown to be contended for. There were, 
of course, no public modes of communicating intelli- 
(142) 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 143 

gence in those days, and Tostig had learned the facts 
of Edward's death and Harold's coronation through 
spies which he had stationed at certain points on the 
coast. He was himself, at that time, on the Conti- 
nent. He rode with all speed to Rouen to commu- 
nicate the news to William, eager to incite him to 
commence hostilities against his brother. 

When Tostig arrived at Rouen, William was in a 
park which lay in the vicinity of the city, trying a 
new bow that had been recently made for him, Wil- 
liam was a man of prodigious muscular strength, and 
they gave him the credit of being able to use easily 
a bow which nobody else could bend. A part of this 
credit was doubtless due to the etiquette which, in 
royal palaces and grounds, leads all sensible courtiers 
to take good care never to succeed in attempts to excel 
the king. But, notwithstanding this consideration, 
there is no doubt that the duke really merited a great 
portion of the commendation that he received for his 
strength and dexterity in the use of the bow. It was 
a weapon in which he took great interest. A new 
one had been made for him, of great elasticity and 
strength, and he had gone out into his park, with his 
officers, to try its powers, when Tostig arrived. Tos- 
tig followed him to the place, and there advanc- 
ing to his side, communicated the tidings to him 
privately. 

William was greatly moved by the intelligence. His 



144 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

arrow dropped upon the ground. He gave the bow to 
an attendant. He stood for a time speechless, tying and 
untying the cordon of his cloak in his abstraction. 
Presently he began slowly to move away from the 
place, and to return toward the city. His attendants 
followed him in silence, wondering what the exciting 
tidings could be which had produced so sudden and 
powerful an effect. 

William went into the castle hall, and walked to 
and fro a long time, thoughtful, and evidently agitated. 
His attendants waited in silence, afraid to speak to 
him. Rumors began at length to circulate among 
them, in respect to the nature of the intelligence which 
had been received. At length a great officer of state, 
named Fitzosborne, arrived at the castle. As he passed 
through the court-yard and gates, the attendants and 
the people, knowing that he possessed in a great de- 
gree the confidence of his sovereign, asked him what 
the tidings were that had made such an impression. 
"I know nothing certain about it," said he, "but I 
will soon learn." So saying, he advanced toward 
William and accosted him by saying, "Why should 
you conceal from us your news ? It is reported in the 
city that the King of England is dead, and that Harold 
has violated his oaths to you, and has seized the king- 
dom. Is that true ?" 

William acknowledged that that was the intelli- 
gence by which he had been so vexed and chagrined. 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 145 

Fitzosborne urged the duke not to allow such events to 
depress or dispirit him. "As for the death of Ed- 
ward," said he, "that is an event past and sure, and 
can not be recalled; but Harold's usurpation and treach- 
ery admits of a very easy remedy. You have the 
right to the throne, and you have the soldiers neces- 
sary to enforce that right. Undertake the enterprise 
boldly. You will be sure to succeed." 

William revolved the subject in his mind for a 
few days, during which the exasperation and anger 
which the first receipt of the intelligence had pro- 
duced upon him was succeeded by calm but indig- 
nant deliberation, in respect to the course which he 
should pursue. He concluded to call a great council 
of state, and to lay the case before them — not for 
the purpose of obtaining their advice, but to call their 
attention to the crisis in a formal and solemn man- 
ner, and to prepare them to act in concert in the 
subsequent measures to be pursued. The result of 
the deliberations of this council, guided, doubtless, by 
William's own designs, was, that the first step should 
be to send an embassy to Harold to demand of him 
the fulfillment of his promises. 

The messenger was accordingly dispatched. He 
proceeded to London, and laid before Harold the com- 
munication with which he had been intrusted. This 
communication recounted the three promises which 
Harold had made, namely, to send his daughter to 

M. of H. — 12 — 10 



146 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Normandy to be married to one of William's generals; 
to marry William's daughter himself; and to main- 
tain William's claims to the English crown on the 
death of Edward. He was to remind Harold, also, 
of the solemnity with which he had bound himself 
to fulfill these obligations, by oaths taken in the 
presence of the most sacred relics of the Church, 
and in the most public and deliberate manner. 
Harold replied, 

1. That as to sending over his daughter to be 
married to one of William's generals, he could not 
do it, for his daughter was dead. He presumed, he 
said, that William did not wish him to send the 
corpse. 

2. In respect to marrying William's daughter, to 
whom he had been affianced in Normandy, he was 
sorry to say that that was also out of his power, as 
he could not take a foreign wife without the consent 
of his people, which he was confident would never 
be given; besides, he was already married, he said, 
to a Saxon lady of his own dominions. 

3. In regard to the kingdom: It did not depend 
upon him, he said, to decide who should rule over 
England as Edward's successor, but upon the will of 
Edward himself, and upon the English people. The 
English barons and nobles had decided, with Ed- 
ward's concurrence, that he, Harold, was their legiti- 
mate and proper sovereign, and it was not for him 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 147 

to controvert their will. However much he might 
be disposed to comply with William's wishes, and to 
keep his promise, it was plain that it was out of his 
power, for in promising him the English crown, 
he had promised what did not belong to him to 
give. 

4. As to his oaths, he said that, notwithstanding 
the secret presence of the sacred relics under the 
cloth of gold, he considered them as of no binding 
force upon his conscience, for he was constrained to 
take them as the only means of escaping from the 
duress in which he was virtually held in Normandy. 
Promises, and oaths even, when extorted by necessity, 
were null and void. 

The messenger returned to Normandy with these 
replies, and William immediately began to prepare 
for war. 

His first measure was to call a council of his most 
confidential friends and advisers, and to lay the subject 
before them. They cordially approved of the plan of 
an invasion of England, and promised to co-operate 
in the accomplishment of it to the utmost of their 
power. 

The next step was to call a general council of all 
the chieftains and nobles of the land, and also the 
notables, as they were called, or principal officers 
and municipal authorities of the towns. The main 
point of interest for the consideration of this assembly 



148 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

was, whether the country would submit to the 
necessary taxation for raising the necessary funds. 
William had ample power, as duke, to decide upon 
the invasion and to undertake it. He could also, 
without much difficulty, raise the necessary number 
of men; for every baron in his realm was bound, by 
the feudal conditions on which he held his land, to 
furnish his quota of men for any military enterprise 
in which his sovereign might see fit to engage. But 
for so distant and vast an undertaking as this, Wil- 
liam needed a much larger supply of funds than were 
usually required in the wars of those days. For rais- 
ing such large supplies, the political institutions of 
the Middle Ages had not made any adequate pro- 
vision. Governments then had no power of taxation, 
like that so freely exercised in modern times; and 
even now, taxes in France and England take the form 
of grants from the people to the kings. And as to 
the contrivance, so exceedingly ingenious, by which 
inexhaustible resources are opened to governments at 
the present day — that is, the plan of borrowing the 
money, and leaving posterity to pay or repudiate the 
debt, as they please, no minister of finance had, in 
William's day, been brilliant enough to discover it. 
Thus each ruler had to rely, then, mainly on the 
rents and income from his own lands, and other pri- 
vate resources, for the comparatively small amount of 
money that he needed in his brief campaigns. But 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 149 

now William perceived that ships must be built and 
equipped, and great stores of provisions accumulated, 
and arms and munitions of war provided, all which 
would require a considerable outlay; and how was 
this money to be obtained ? 

The general assembly which he convened were 
greatly distracted by the discussion of the question. 
The quiet and peaceful citizens who inhabited the 
towns, the artisans and tradesmen, who wished for 
nothing but to be allowed to go on in their indus- 
trial pursuits in peace, were opposed to the whole 
project. They thought it unreasonable and absurd 
that they should be required to contribute from their 
earnings to enable their lord and master to go off 
on so distant, and desperate an undertaking, from 
which, even if successful, they could derive no bene- 
fit whatever. Many of the barons, too, were op- 
posed to the scheme. They thought it very likely 
to end in disaster and defeat; and they denied that 
their feudal obligation to furnish men for their sov- 
ereign's wars was binding to the extent of requiring 
them to go out of the country, and beyond the sea, 
to prosecute his claims to the throne of another 
kingdom. 

Others, on the other hand, among the members 
of William's assembly, were strongly disposed to 
favor the plan. They were more ardent or more 
courageous than the rest, or perhaps their position 



I50 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

and circumstances were such that they had more to 
hope from the success of the enterprise than they, 
or less to fear from its failure. Thus there was great 
diversity of opinion; and as the parliamentary sys- 
tem of rules, by which a body of turbulent men, 
in modern times, are kept in some semblance of or- 
ganization and order during a debate, had not then 
been developed, the meeting of these Norman de- 
liberators was, .for a time, a scene of uproar and con- 
fusion. The members gathered in groups, each speaker 
getting around him as many as he could obtain to 
listen to his harangue; the more quiet and passive 
portion of the assembly moving to and fro, from 
group to group, as they were attracted by the ear- 
nestness and eloquence of the different speakers, or 
by their approval of the sentiments which they heard 
them expressing. The scene, in fact, was like that 
presented in exciting times by a political caucus 
in America, before it is called to order by the chair- 
man. 

Fitzosborne, the confidential friend and counselor, 
who has already been mentioned as the one who 
ventured to accost the duke at the time when the 
tidings of Edward's death and of Harold's accession 
first reached him, now seeing that anything like 
definite and harmonious action on the part of this tu- 
multuous assembly was out of the question, went to 
the duke, and proposed to him to give up the assem- 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 151 

bly as such, and make the best terms and arrange- 
ments that he could with the constituent elements of 
it, individually and severally. He would himself, he 
said, furnish forty ships, manned, equipped, and pro- 
visioned; and he recommended to the duke to call 
each of the others into his presence, and ask them 
what they were individually willing to do. The duke 
adopted this plan, and it was wonderfully successful. 
Those who were first invited made large oflers, and 
their offers were immediately registered in form by 
the proper officers. Each one who followed was em- 
ulous of the example of those who had preceded him, 
and desirous of evincing as much zeal and generosity 
as they. Then, besides, the duke received these vas- 
sals with so much condescension and urbanity, and 
treated them with so much consideration and respect, 
as greatly to flatter their vanity, and raise them in 
their own estimation, by exalting their ideas of the 
importance of the services which they could render, 
in carrying so vast an enterprise to a successful re- 
sult. In a word, the tide turned like a flood in favor 
of granting liberal supplies. The nobles and knights 
promised freely, men, money, ships, arms, provisions 
— every thing, in short, that was required; and when 
the work of receiving and registering the offers was 
completed, and the officers summed up the aggregate 
amount, William found, to his extreme satisfaction, 
that his wants were abundantly supplied. 



152 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

There was another very important point, which 
William adopted immediate measures to secure, and 
that was obtaining the Pope's approval of his intended 
expedition. The moral influence of having the Roman 
pontiff on his side, would, he knew, be of incalculable 
advantage to him. He sent an embassage, accordingly, 
to Rome, to lay the whole subject before his holiness, 
and to pray that the pope would declare that he was 
justly entitled to the English crown, and authorize him 
to proceed and take possession of it by force of arms. 
Lanfranc was the messenger whom he employed — 
the same Lanfranc who had been so successful, some 
years before, in the negotiations at Rome connected 
with the confirmation of William and Matilda's mar- 
riage. 

Lanfranc was equally successful now. The pope, 
after examining William's claims, pronounced them 
valid. He decided that William was entitled to the 
rank and honors of King of England. He caused a 
formal diploma to be made out to this effect. The di- 
ploma was elegantly executed, signed with the cross, 
according to the pontifical custom, and sealed with a 
round leaden seal.* 

It was, in fact, very natural that the Roman author- 
ities should take a favorable view of William's enter- 



• The Latin name for such a seal is bulla. It is on account 
of this sort of seal, which is customarily affixed to them, that papal 
edicts have received the name of bulls. 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 153 

prise, and feel an interest in its success, as it was un- 
doubtedly for the interest of the Church that William, 
rather than Harold, should reign over England, as the 
accession of William would bring the English realm 
far more fully under the influence of the Roman Church. 
William had always been very submissive to the pon- 
tifical authority, as was shown in his conduct in re- 
spect to the question of his marriage. He himself, and 
also Matilda his wife, had always taken a warm in- 
terest in the welfare and prosperity of the abbeys, the 
monasteries, the churches, and the other religious es- 
tabhshments of the times. Then the very circumstance 
that he sent his embassador to Rome to submit his 
claims to the pontiff's adjudication, while Harold did 
not do so, indicated a greater deference for the author- 
ity of the Church, and made it probable that he would 
be a far more obedient and submissive son of the 
Church, in his manner of ruling the realm, if he should 
succeed in gaining possession of it, than Harold his 
rival. The pope and his counselors at Rome thought 
it proper to take all these things into the account in 
deciding between William and Harold, as they honestly 
believed, without doubt, that it was their first and 
highest duty to exalt and aggrandize, by every possi- 
ble means, the spiritual authority of the sacred institu- 
tion over which they were called to preside. 

The pope and his cardinals, accordingly, espoused 
William's cause very warmly. In addition to the di- 



154 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

ploma which gave William formal authority to take 
possession of the English crown, the pope sent him a 
banner and a ring. The banner was of costly and 
elegant workmanship; its value, however, did not con- 
sist in its elegance or its cost, but in a solemn bene- 
diction which his holiness pronounced over it, by 
which it was rendered sacred and inviolable. The 
banner, thus blessed, was forwarded to William by 
Lanfranc with great care. 

It was accompanied by the ring. The ring was of 
gold, and it contained a diamond of great value. The 
gold and the diamond both, however, served only as set- 
tings to preserve and honor something of far greater 
value than they. This choice treasure was a hair from 
the head of the apostle Peter! a sacred relic of mirac- 
ulous virtue and of inestimable value. 

When the edict with its leaden seal, and the ban- 
ner and the ring arrived in Normandy, they produced 
a great and universal excitement. To have bestowed 
upon the enterprise thus emphatically, the solemn sanc- 
tion of the great spiritual head of the Church, whom 
the great mass of the people looked up to with an awe 
and a reverence almost divine, was to seal indissolubly 
the rightfulness of the enterprise, and to insure its suc- 
cess. There was afterwards no difficulty in procur- 
ing men or means. Everybody was eager to share in 
the glory, and to obtain the rewards, of an enter- 
prise thus commended by an authority duly commis- 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 155 

sioned to express, in all such cases, the judgment of 
Heaven. 

Finding that the current was thus fairly setting in 
his favor, William sent proclamations into all the 
countries surrounding Normandy, inviting knights, and 
soldiers, and adventurers of every degree to join him 
in his projected enterprise. These proclamations awak- 
ened universal attention. Great numbers of adventur- 
ous men determined to enter William's service. 
Horses, arms, and accoutrements were every where in 
great demand. The invasion of England and the ques- 
tion of joining it were the universal topics of conver- 
sation. The roads were covered with knights and 
soldiers, some on horseback and alone, others in 
bands, large or small, all proceeding to Normandy to 
tender their services. William received them all, and 
made liberal promises to bestow rewards and honors 
upon them in England, in the event of his success. 
To some he offered pay in money; to others, booty; 
to others, office and power. Every one had his price. 
Even the priests and dignitaries of the Church shared 
the general enthusiasm. One of them furnished a 
ship and twenty armed men, under an agreement to 
be appointed bishop of a certain valuable English 
diocese when William should be established on his 
throne. 

While all these movements were going on in the 
interior of the country, all the sea ports and towns 



156 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

along the coast of Normandy presented a very busy 
scene of naval preparation. Naval architects were 
employed in great numbers in building and fitting 
out vessels. Some were constructed and furnished 
for the transportation of men, others for conveying pro- 
visions and munitions of war; and lighters and boats 
were built for ascending the rivers, and for aiding in 
landing troops upon shelving shores. Smiths and 
armorers were occupied incessantly in manufacturing 
spears, and swords, and coats of mail; while vast 
numbers of laboring men and beasts of burden were 
employed in conveying arms and materials to and 
from the manufactories to the ships, and from one 
point of embarkation to another. 

As soon as William had put all these busy agencies 
thus in successful operation, he considered that there 
was one more point which it was necessary for him 
to secure before finally embarking, and that was the 
co-operation and aid of the French king, whose name 
at this time was Phillip. In his character of Duke of 
Normandy the King of France was his liege lord, and 
he was bound to act, in some degree, under an ac- 
knowledgment of his superior authority. In his new 
capacity, that is, as King of England, or, rather, as 
heir to the English kingdom, he was, of course, wholly 
independent of Philip, and, consequently, not bound 
by any feudal obligation to look to him at all. He 
thought it most prudent, however, to attempt, at least, 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 157 

to conciliate Philip's favor, and, accordingly, leaving 
his officers and his workmen to go on with the work 
of organizing his army, and of building and equipping 
the fleet, he set off, himself, on an expedition to the 
court of the French king. He thought it safer, to un- 
dertake this delicate mission himself, rather than to 
intrust it to an embassador or deputy. 

He found Philip at his palace of St. Germain, 
which was situated at a short distance from Paris. 
The duke assumed, in his interview with the king, a 
very respectful and deferential air and manner. Philip 
was a very young man, though haughty and vain. Wil- 
liam was very much his superior, not only in age and 
experience, but in talents and character, and in personal 
renown. Still, he approached the monarch with all the 
respectful observance due from a vassal to his sover- 
eign, made known his plans and asked for Philip's 
approbation and aid. He was willing, he said, in 
case that aid was afforded him, to hold his kingdom 
of England, as he had done the duchy of Normandy, 
as a dependency of the French crown. 

Philip seemed not at all disposed to look upon 
the project with favor. He asked William who was 
going to take care of his duchy while he was run- 
ning off after a kingdom. William replied, at first, 
that that was a subject which he did not think his 
neighbors need concern themselves about. Then think- 
ing, on reflection, that a more respectful answer would 



158 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

be more politic, under the circumstances of the case, 
he added, that he was providentially blessed with a 
prudent wife and loving subjects, and that he thought 
he might safely leave his domestic affairs in their 
hands until he should return. Philip still opposed 
the plan. It was Quixotic, he said, and dangerous. 
He strongly advised William to abandon the scheme, 
and be content with his present possessions. Such 
desperate schemes of ambition as those he was con- 
templating would only involve him in ruin. 

Before absolutely deciding the case, however, Philip 
called a council of his great nobles and officers of 
state, and laid William's proposals before them. The 
result of their deliberations was to confirm Philip in 
his first decision. They said that the rendering to 
William the aid which he desired, would involve 
great expense, and be attended with great danger; 
and as to William's promises to hold England as a 
vassal of the King of France, they had no faith in the 
performance of them. It had been very difficult, they 
said, for many years, for the kings of France to 
maintain any effectual authority over the dukes of 
Normandy, and when once master of so distant and 
powerful a realm as England, all control over them 
would be sundered forever. 

Philip then gave William his final answer in ac- 
cordance with these counsels. The answer was 
received, on William's part, with strong feelings of 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS 159 

disappointment and displeasure. Philip conducted the 
duke to his retinue when the hour of departure ar- 
rived, in order to soothe, as far as possible, his irri- 
tated feehngs, by dismissing him from his court with 
marks of his honorable consideration and regard. 
William, however, was not in a mood to be pleased. 
He told Philip,, on taking leave of him, that he was 
losing the most powerful vassal that any lord sover- 
eign ever had, by the course which he had decided 
to pursue. "I would have held the whole realm of 
England as a part of your dominions, acknowledging 
you as sovereign over all, if you had consented to 
render me your aid^ but I will not do it since you 
refuse. I shall feel bound to repay only those who 
assist me." 

William returned to Normandy, where all the 
preparations for the expedition had been going on 
with great vigor during his absence, and proceeded 
to make arrangements for the last great measure which 
it was necessary to take previous to his departure; 
that was, the regular constitution of a government to 
rule in Normandy while he should be gone. He de- 
termined to leave the supreme power in the hands of 
his wife Matilda, appointing, at the same time, a 
number of civil and military officers as a council of 
regency, who were to assist her in her deliberations 
by giving her information and advice, and to manage, 
under her direction, the different departments of the 



i6o WILLIAM THE CONaUEROR 

government. Her title was "Duchess Regent," and 
she was installed into her office in a public and sol- 
emn manner, at a great assembly of the estates of 
the realm. At the close of the ceremonies, after 
William had given Matilda his charge, he closed his 
address by adding, "And do not let us fail to enjoy 
the benefit of your prayers, and those of all the ladies 
of your court, that the blessing of God may attend 
us, and secure the success of our expedition." 

We are not necessarily to suppose, as we might 
at first be strongly inclined to do, that there was any 
special hypocrisy and pretense in William's thus pro- 
fessing to rely on the protection of Heaven, in the 
personal and political dangers which he was about 
to incur. It is probable that he honestly believed 
that the inheritance of the English crown was his 
right, and, that being the case, that a vigorous and 
manly effort to enforce his right was a solemn duty. 
In the present age of the world, now that there are 
so many countries in which intelligence, industry, 
and love of order are so extensively diffused, that the 
mass of the community are capable of organizing 
and administering a government themselves, republi- 
cans are apt to look upon hereditary sovereigns as 
despots, ruling only for the purpose of promoting their 
own aggrandizement, and the ends of an unholy and 
selfish ambition. That there have been a great many 
such despots no one can deny; but then, on the 



io66] THE PREPARATIONS i6i 

other hand, there have been many others who have 
acted, in a greater or less degree, under the influence 
of principles of duty in their political career. They 
have honestly believed that the vast povv'er with 
which, in coming forward into public life, they have 
found themselves invested, without, in most cases, any 
agency of their own, was a trust imposed upon them 
by divine Providence, which could not innocently be 
laid aside; that on them devolved the protection of 
the communities, over which they ruled, from exter- 
nal hostility, and the preservation of peace and order 
within, and the promotion of the general industry 
and welfare, as an imperious and solemn duty; and 
they have devoted their lives to the performance of 
this duty, with the usual mixture, it is true, of am- 
bition and selfishness, but still, after all, with as much 
conscientiousness and honesty as the mass of men in 
the humbler walks of life evince in performing theirs. 
William of Normandy appears to have been one of 
this latter class; and in obeying the dictates of his 
ambition in seeking to gain possession of the Eng- 
lish crown, he no doubt considered himself as fulfill- 
ing the obligations of duty too. 

However this may be, he went on with'^his prep- 
arations in the most vigorous and prosperous manner. 
The whole country were enthusiastic in the cause; 
and their belief that the enterprise about to be un- 
dertaken, had unquestionably secured the favor of 

M. of H.-ia— u 



i62 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Heaven, was confirmed by an extraordinary phenom- 
enon which occurred just before the armament was 
ready to set sail. A comet appeared in the sky, 
which, as close observers declared, had a double tail. 
It was universally agreed that this portended that 
England and Normandy were about to be combined, 
and to form a double kingdom, which should ex- 
hibit to all mankind a wonderful spectacle of splen- 
dor. 




CHAPTER IX. 

Crossing the Channel. 

The River Dive. — Final assembling of the fleet.— Brilliant and magnifi- 
cent scene.— Equinoctial gales.— The expedition detained by them. 

— Injurious effects of the storm. — Discouragement of the men.— Fears 
and forebodings. — Some of the vessels wrecked. — Favorable change. 

— The fleet puts to sea. — Various delays.— Its effects. — Harold's want of 
information. — He withdraws his troops. — Harold's vigilance. — He sends 
spies into Normandy. — Harold's spies. — They are detected. — William 
dismisses the spies. — His confidence in his cause. — Fears of William's 
officers. — He reassures them. — Arrival of Matilda with the Mira. — A 
present to William. — The squadron puts to sea again. — Its appearance. 

— Fleetness of the Mira. — Leaves the fleet out of sight. — William's un- 
concern.— Reappearance of the fleet.— The fleet enters the Bay of Peven- 
sey.— Disembarkation.— I,anding of the troops. — Anecdote. — The en- 
campment.— Scouts sent out. — William's supper. — The missing ships. 

— The Conqueror's Stone.— March of the army. — Flight of the inhabit- 
ant!.— The army encamps.— The town of Hastings.— William's fortifica- 
tions.- Approach of Harold. 

THE place for the final assembling of the fleet 
which was to convey the expedition across 
the Channel was the mouth of a small river 
called the Dive, flowing from the neighborhood of 
the castle of Falaise northward into the sea. The 
grand gathering took place in the beginning of the 
month of September, in the year 1066. This date,- 
which marks the era of the Norman Conquest, is one 



i64 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

of the dates which students of history fix indelibly in 
the memory. 

The gathering of the fleet in the estuary of the 
Dive, and the assembling of the troops on the beach 
along its shores, formed a very grand and imposing 
spectacle. The fleets of galleys, ships, boats, and 
barges covering the surface of the water — the long 
hnes of tents under the cliffs on the land — the horse- 
men, splendidly mounted, and ghttering with steel 

— the groups of soldiers, all busily engaged in trans- 
porting provisions and stores to and fro, or making 
the preliminary arrangements for the embarkation 

— the thousands of spectators who came and went 
incessantly, and the duke himself, gorgeously dressed, 
and mounted on his war-horse, with the guards and 
officers that attended him — these, and the various 
other elements of martial parade and display usually 
witnessed on such occasions, conspired to produce a 
very gay and brilliant, as well as magnificent scene. 

Of course, the assembling of so large a force of 
men and of vessels, and the various preparations for 
the embarkation, consumed some time, and when at 
length all was ready — which was early in Septem- 
ber — the equinoctial gales came on, and it was 
found impossible to leave the port. There was, in 
fact, a continuance of heavy winds and seas, and 
stormy skies, for several weeks. Short intervals, 
from time to time, occurred, when the clouds would 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 165 

break away, and the sun appear; but these intervals 
did not liberate the fleet from its confinement, for 
they were not long enough in duration to allow the 
sea to go down. The surf continued to come rolling 
and thundering in upon the shore, and over the sand- 
bars at the mouth of the river, making destruction the 
almost inevitable destiny of any ship which should 
attempt to brave its fury. The state of the skies 
gradually robbed the scene of the gay and brilliant 
colors which first it wore. The vessels furled their 
sails, and drew in their banners, and rode at anchor, 
presenting their heads doggedly to the storm. The 
men on the shore sought shelter in their tents. The 
spectators retired to their homes, while the duke and 
his officers watched the scudding clouds in the sky, 
day after day, with great and increasing anxiety. 

In fact, William had very serious cause for appre- 
hension in respect to the effect which this long-con- 
tinued storm was to have on the success of his 
enterprise. The delay was a very serious considera- 
tion in itself, for the winter would soon be drawing 
near. In one month more it would seem to be out 
of the question for such a vast armament to cross the 
Channel at all. Then, when men are embarking in 
such dark and hazardous undertakings as that in which 
William was now engaged, their spirits and their 
energy rise and sink in great fluctuations, under the 
influence of very slight and inadequate causes ; and 



i66 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

nothing has greater influence over them at such times 
than the aspect of the skies. William found that the 
ardor and enthusiasm of his army were fast disappear- 
ing under the effects of chilling winds and driving 
rain. The feelings of discontent and depression which 
the frowning expression of the heavens awakened in 
their minds, were deepened and spread by the influ- 
ence of sympathy. The men had nothing to do, dur- 
ing the long and dreary hours of the day, but to an- 
ticipate hardships and dangers, and to entertain one 
another, as they watched the clouds driving along the 
cliffs, and the rolling of the surges in the ofFmg, with 
anticipations of shipwrecks, battles, and defeats, and 
all the other gloomy forebodings which haunt the im- 
agination of a discouraged and discontented soldier. 

Nor were these ideas of wrecks and destruction 
wholly imaginary. Although the body of the fleet 
remained in the river, where it was sheltered from 
the winds, yet there were many cases of single ships 
that were from time to time exposed to them. These 
were detached vessels coming in late to the ren- 
dezvous, or small squadrons sent out to some neigh- 
boring port under some necessity connected with the 
preparations, or strong galleys, whose commanders, 
more bold than the rest, were willing, in cases not 
of absolute necessity, to brave the danger. Many of 
these vessels were wrecked. The fragments of them^ 
with the bodies of the drowned mariners, were driven 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 167 

to the shore. The ghastly spectacles presented by 
these dead bodies, swollen and mangled, and half 
buried in the sand, as if the sea had been endeavor- 
ing to hide the mischief it had done, shocked and terri- 
fied the spectators who saw them. William gave or- 
ders to have all these bodies gathered up and interred 
secretly, as fast as they were found; still, exaggerated 
rumors of the number and magnitude of these disas- 
ters were circulated in the camp, and the discontent 
and apprehensions grew every day more and more 
alarming. 

William resolved that he must put to sea at the 
very first possible opportunity. The favorable occasion 
was not long wanting. The wind changed. The 
storm appeared to cease. A breeze sprang up from 
the south, which headed back the surges from the 
French shore. William gave orders to embark. The 
tents were struck. The baggage of the soldiers was 
sent on board the transport vessels. The men them- 
selves, crowded into great flat-bottomed boats, passed 
in masses to the ships from the shore. The specta- 
tors reappeared, and covered the cliffs and promon- 
tories near, to witness the final scene. The sails were 
hoisted, and the vast armament moved out upon the 
sea. 

The appearance of a favorable change in the weather 
proved fallacious after all, for the clouds and storm re- 
turned, and after being driven, in apprehension and 



i68 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

danger, about a hundred miles to the northeast along 
the coast, the fleet was compelled to seek refuge 
again in a harbor. The port which received them was 
St. Valery, near Dieppe. The duke was greatly disap- 
pointed at being obliged thus again to take the land. 
Still, the attempt to advance had not been a labor 
wholly lost; for as the French coast here trends to the 
northward, they had been gradually narrowing the chan- 
nel as they proceeded, and were, in fact, so far on the 
way toward the English shores. Then there were be- 
sides, some reasons for touching here, before the final 
departure, to receive some last re-enforcements and 
supplies. William had also one more opportunity of 
communicating with his capital and with Matilda. 

These delays, disastrous as they seemed to be, and 
ominous of evil, were nevertheless attended with one 
good effect, of which, however, William at the time 
was not aware. They led Harold, in England, to im- 
agine that the enterprise was abandoned, and so put 
him off his guard. There were in those days, as has 
already been remarked, no regular and public modes 
of intercommunication, by which intelligence of impor- 
tant movements and events was spread every where, 
as now, with promptness and certainty. Governments 
were obliged, accordingly, to rely for information, in 
respect to what their enemies were doing, on rumors, 
or on the reports of spies. Rumors had gone to Eng- 
land in August that William was meditating an inva- 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 169 

sion, and Harold had made [some extensive prepara- 
tions to meet and oppose him; but, finding that he 
did not come — that week after week of September 
passed away, and no signs of an enemy appeared, and 
gaining no certain information of the causes of the de- 
lay, he concluded that the enterprise was abandoned, 
or else, perhaps, postponed to the ensuing spring. Ac- 
cordingly, as the winter was coming on, he deemed 
it best to commence his preparations for sending his 
troops to their winter quarters. He disbanded some 
of them, and sent others away, distributing them in 
various castles and fortified towns, where they would 
be sheltered from the rigors of the season, and saved 
from the exposure and hardships of the camp, and yet, 
at the same time, remain within reach of a summons 
in case of any sudden emergency which might call for 
them. They were soon summoned, though not, in 
the first instance, to meet Harold, as will presently 
appear. 

While adopting these measures, however, which 
he thought the comfort and safety of his army re- 
quired, Harold did not relax his vigilance in watch- 
ing, as well as he could, the designs and movements 
of his enemy. He kept his secret agents on the 
southern coast, ordering them to observe closely every 
thing that transpired, and to gather and send to him 
every item of intelligence which should find its way 
by any means acioss the Channel. Of course, Wil- 



I70 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

liam would do all in his power to intercept and cut 
off all communication, and he was, at this time, very 
much aided in these efforts by the prevalence of the 
storms, which made it almost impossible for the fish- 
ing and trading vessels of the coast to venture out to 
sea, or attempt to cross the Channel. The agents of 
Harold, therefore, on the southern coast of England, 
found that they could obtain but very little informa- 
tion. 

At length the king, unwilling to remain any longer 
so entirely in the dark, resolved on sending some 
messengers across the sea into Normandy itself, to 
learn positively what the true state of the case might 
be. Messengers going thus secretly into the enemy's 
territory, or into the enemy's camp, become, by so 
doing, in martial law, spies, and incur, if they are 
taken, the penalty of death. The undertaking, there- 
fore, is extremely hazardous; and as the death which 
is inflicted in cases of detection is an ignominious 
one — spies being hung, not shot — most men are 
very averse to encountering the danger. Still, desper- 
ate characters are always to be found in camps and 
armies, who are ready to undertake it on being 
promised very extraordinary pay. 

Harold's spies contrived to make their way across 
the Channel, probably at some point far to the east 
of Normandy, where the passage is narrow. They 
then came along the shore, disguised as peasants of 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 171 

the country, and they arrived at St. Valery while 
William's fleet was there. Here they began to make 
their observations, scrutinizing every thing with close 
attention and care, and yet studiously endeavoring to 
conceal their interest in what they saw. Notwith- 
standing all their vigilance, however, they were dis- 
covered, proved to be spies, and taken before William 
to receive their sentence. 

Instead of condemning them to death, which they 
undoubtedly supposed would be their inevitable fate, 
William ordered them to be set at liberty. "Go 
back," said he, "to King Harold, and tell him he 
might have saved himself the expense of sending spies 
into Normandy to learn what 1 am preparing for him. 
He will soon know by other means — much sooner, 
in fact, than he imagines. Go and tell him from me 
that he may put himself, if he pleases, in the safest 
place he can find in all his dominions, and if he does 
not find my hand upon him before the year is out, 
he never need fear me again as long as he lives." 

Nor was this expression of confidence in the suc- 
cess of the measures which he was taking a mere 
empty boast. William knew the power of Harold, 
and he knew his own. The enterprise in which he 
had embarked was not a rash adventure. It was a 
cool, deliberate, well-considered plan. It appeared 
doubtful and dangerous in the eyes of mankind, for 
to mere superficial observers it seemed simply an ag- 



172 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

gressive war waged by a duke of Normandy, the 
ruler of a comparatively small and insignificant prov- 
ince, against a king of England, the monarch of one 
of the greatest and most powerful realms in the world. 
William, on the other hand, regarded it as an effort 
on the part of the rightful heir to a throne, to dispos- 
sess a usurper. He felt confident of having the sym- 
pathy and co-operation of a great part of the com- 
munity, even in England, the moment he could show 
them that he was able to maintain his rights; and 
that he could show them that, by a very decisive 
demonstration, was evident, visibly, before him, in 
the vast fleet which was riding at anchor In the 
harbor, and in the long lines of tents, filled with 
soldiery, which covered the land. 

On one occasion, when some of his officers were 
expressing apprehensions of Harold's power, and theii 
fears in respect to their being able successfully to 
cope with it, William replied, that the more formidable 
Harold's power should prove to^be, the better he should 
be pleased, as the glory would be all the greater for 
them in having overcome it. "I have no objection," 
said he, "that you should entertain exalted ideas of 
his strength, though I wonder a little that you do 
not better appreciate our own. I need be under no 
concern lest he, at such a distance, should learn too 
much, by his spies, about the force which I am 
bringing against him, when you, who are so near 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 173 

me, seem to know so little about it. But do not 
give yourselves any concern. Trust to the justice of 
your cause and to my foresight. Perform your parts 
like men, and you will find that the result which 1 
feel sure of, and you hope for, will certainly be at- 
tained." 

The storm at length entirely cleared away, and 
the army and the fleet commenced their preparations 
for the final departure. In the midst of this closing 
scene, the attention of all the vast crowds assembled 
on board the ships and on the shores, was one morn- 
ing attracted by a beautiful ship which came saihng 
into the harbor. It proved to be a large and splen- 
did vessel which the Duchess Matilda had built, at 
her own expense, and was now bringing in, to offer 
to her husband as her parting gift. She was herself 
on board, with her officers and attendants, having 
come to witness her husband's departure, and to bid 
him farewell. Her arrival, of course, under such cir- 
cumstances, produced universal excitement and en- 
thusiasm. The ships in harbor and the shores re- 
sounded with acclamations as the new arrival came 
gallantly in. 

Matilda's vessel was finely built and splendidly 
decorated. The sails were of different colors, which 
gave it a very gay appearance. Upon them were 
painted, in various places, the three lions which was 
the device of the Norman ensign. At the bows of 



174 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

the ship was an effigy, or figure-head, representing 
William and Matilda's second son shooting with a 
bow. This was the accomplishment which, of all 
others, his father took most interest in seeing his lit- 
tle son acquire. The arrow was drawn nearly to its 
head, indicating great strength in the little arms which 
were guiding it, and it was just ready to fly. The 
name of this vessel was the Mira. William made it 
his flag ship. He hoisted upon its mast head the 
consecrated banner which had been sent to him 
from Rome, and went on board accompanied by 
his officers and guards, with great ceremony and 
parade. 

At length the squadron was ready to put to sea. 
At a given signal the sails were hoisted, and the 
whole fleet began to move slowly out of the harbor. 
There were four hundred ships of large size, if we 
may believe the chronicles of the times, and more 
than a thousand transports. The decks of all these 
vessels were covered with men; banners were stream- 
ing from every mast and spar; and every salient 
point of the shore was crowded with spectators. 
The sea was calm, the air serene, and the mighty 
cloud of canvas which whitened the surface of the 
water moved slowly on over the gentle swell of the 
waves, forming a spectacle which, as a picture merely 
for the eye, was magnificent and grand, and when 
regarded in connection with the vast results to the 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 175 

human race, which were to flow from the success of 
the enterprise, must be considered sublime. 

The splendidly decorated ship which Matilda had 
presented to her husband proved itself, on trial, to be 
something more than a mere toy. It led the van at 
the commencement, of course; and as all eyes watched 
its progress, it soon became evident that it was slowly 
gaining upon the rest of the squadron, so as contin- 
ually to increase its distance from those that were fol- 
lowing it. William, pleased with the success of its 
performance, ordered the sailing master to keep on, 
without regard to those who were behind; and thus 
it happened that, when night came on, the fleet was at 
very considerable distance in rear of the flag ship. 
Of course, under these circumstances, the fleet dis- 
appeared from sight when the sun went down, but 
all expected that it would come into view again in 
the morning. When the morning came, however, to 
the surprise and disappointment of every one on board 
the flag ship, no signs of the fleet were to be seen. 
The seamen, and the officers on the deck, gazed 
long and intently into the southern horizon as the 
increasing light of the morning brought it gradually 
into view, but there was not a speck to break its 
smooth and even line. 

They felt anxious and uneasy, but William seemed 
to experience no concern. He ordered the sails to be 
furled, and then sent a man to the mast head to look. 



176 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

out there. Nothing was to be seen. William, still ap- 
parently unconcerned, ordered breakfast to be prepared 
in a very sumptuous manner, loading the tables with 
wine and other delicacies, that the minds of all on 
board might be cheered by the exhilarating influence 
of a feast. At length the lookout was sent to the mast 
head again. "What do you see now?" said William. 
"1 see," said the man, gazing very intently all the 
while toward the south, "four very small specks just 
in the horizon. " The intense interest which this an- 
nouncement awakened on the deck was soon at the 
same time heightened and relieved by the cry, "I can 
see more and more — they are the ships — yes, the 
whole squadron is coming into view. " 

The advancing fleet soon came up with the Mira, 
when the latter spread her sails again, and all moved 
slowly on together toward the coast of England. 

The ships had directed their course so much to 
the eastward, that when they made the land they 
were not very far from the Straits of Dover. As they 
drew near to the English shore, they watched very 
narrowly for the appearance of Harold's cruisers, which 
they naturally expected would have been stationed at 
various points, to guard the coast; but none were to 
be seen. There had been such cruisers, and there 
still were such off the other harbors; but it happened, 
very fortunately for William, that those which had 
been stationed to guard this part of the island had 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 177 

been withdrawn a few days before, on account of 
their provisions being exhausted. Thus, when Wil- 
liam's fleet arrived, there y/as no enemy to oppose 
their landing. There was a large and open bay, 
called the Bay of Pevensey, which lay smiling before 
them, extending its arms as if inviting them in. The 
fleet advanced to within the proper distance from the 
land, and there the seamen cast their anchors, and 
all began to prepare for the work of disembarkation. 
A strong body of soldiery is, of course, landed first 
on such occasions. In this instance the archers, 
William's favorite corps, were selected to take the 
lead. William accompanied them, in his eagerness 
to get to the shore, as he leaped from the boat, his 
foot slipped, and he fell. The officers and men around 
him would have considered this an evil omen, but he 
had presence of mind enough to extend his arms and 
grasp the ground, pretending that his prostration was 
designed, and saying at the same time, "Thus 1 seize 
this land; from this moment it is mine." As he 
arose, one of his officers ran to a neighboring hut 
which stood near by upon the shore, and breaking off 
a little of the thatch, carried it to William, and, put- 
ting it into his hand, said that he thus gave him 
seiii'n of his new possessions. This was a customary 
form, in those times, of putting a new owner into 
possession of lands which he had purchased, or ac- 
quired in any other way. The new proprietor would 

M. at H. u-ix 



178 WILLIAM THE CONaUEROR 

repair to the ground, where the party whose province 
it was to deliver the property would detach some- 
thing from it, such as a piece of turf from a bank, or 
a little of the thatch from a cottage, and offering it 
to him, would say, "Thus 1 deliver thee seiiin," 
that is, possession, "of this land." This ceremony 
was necessary to complete the conveyance of the estate. 
The soldiers, as soon as they were landed, began 
immediately to form an encampment, and to make 
such military arrangements as were necessary to guard 
against an attack, or the sudden appearance of an en- 
emy. While this was going on, the boats continued 
to pass to and fro, accomplishing, as fast as possible, 
the work of disembarkation. In addition to those 
regularly attached to the army, there was a vast com- 
pany of workmen of all kinds, engineers, pioneers, 
carpenters, masons, and laborers, to be landed; and 
there were three towers, or rather forts, built of tim- 
ber, which had been framed and fashioned in Nor- 
mandy, ready to be put up on arriving: these had 
now to be landed, piece by piece, on the strand. 
These forts were to be erected as soon as the army 
should have chosen a position for a permanent en- 
campment, and were intended as a means of pro- 
tection for the provisions and stores. The circum- 
stance shows that the plan of transporting buildings 
ready made, across the seas, has not been invented 
anew by our immigrants to California. 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL 179 

While these operations were going on, Wilham 
dispatched small squadrons of horse as reconnoitering 
parties, to explore the country around, to see if there 
were any indications that Harold was near. These 
parties returned, one after another, after having gone 
some miles into the country, in all directions, and 
reported that there were no signs of an enemy to be 
seen. Things were now getting settled, too, in the 
camp, and William gave directions that the army 
should kindle their camp fires for the night, and pre- 
pare and eat their suppers. His own supper, or din- 
ner, as perhaps it might be called, was also served, 
which he partook, with his officers, in his own tent. 
His mind was in a state of great contentment and 
satisfaction at the successful accomplishment of the 
landing, and at finding himself thus safely established, 
at the head of a vast force, within the realm of 
England. 

Every circumstance of the transit had been favor- 
able excepting one, and that was, that two of the 
ships belonging to the fleet were missing. William 
inquired at supper if any tidings of them had been 
received. They told him, in reply, that the missing 
vessels had been heard from; they had, in some way 
or other, been run upon the rocks and lost. There 
was a certain astrologer, who had made a great pa- 
rade, before the expedition left Normandy, of predict- 
ing its result. He had found, by consulting the stars. 



i8o WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

that William would be successful, and would meet 
with no opposition from Harold. This astrologer had 
been on board one of the missing ships, and was 
drowned. William remarked, on receiving this in- 
formation, "What an idiot a man must be, to think 
that he can predict, by means of the stars, the future 
fate of others, when it is so plain that he can not 
foresee his own!" 

It is said that William's dinner on this occasion 
was served on a large stone instead of a table. The 
stone still remains on the spot, and is called " The 
Conqueror's Stone "to this day. 

The next day after the landing, the army was put in 
motion, and advanced along the coast toward the 
eastward. There was no armed enemy to contend 
against them there or to oppose their march; the 
people of the country, through which the army moved, 
far from attempting to resist them, were filled with 
terror and dismay. This terror was heightened, in 
fact, by some excesses of which some parties of the 
soldiers were guilty. The inhabitants of the hamlets 
and villages, overwhelmed with consternation at the 
sudden descent upon their shores of such a vast 
horde of wild and desperate foreigners, fled in all di- 
rections. Some made their escape into the interior; 
others, taking with them the helpless members of 
their households, and such valuables as they could 
carry, sought refuge in monasteries and churches, 



io66] CROSSING THE CHANNEL i8i 

supposing that such sanctuaries as those, not even 
soldiers, unless they were pagans, would dare to 
violate. Others, still, attempted to conceal themselves 
in thickets and fens, till the vast throng which was 
sweeping onward like a tornado should have passed. 
Though William afterward always evinced a decided 
disposition to protect the peaceful inhabitants of the 
country from all aggressions on the part of his troops, 
he had no time to attend to that subject now. He 
was intent on pressing forward to a place of safety. 
William reached at length a position which seemed 
to him suitable for a permanent encampment. It was 
an elevated land, near the sea. To the westward or 
it was a valley formed by a sort of recess opened in 
the range of chalky cliffs which here form the shore 
of England. In the bottom of this valley, down upon 
the beach, was a small town, then of no great con- 
sequence or power, but whose name, which was 
Hastings, has since been immortalized by the battle 
which was fought in its vicinity a few days after 
William's arrival. The position which William se- 
lected for his encampment was on high land in the 
vicinity of the town. The lines of the encampment 
were marked out, and the forts or castles which had 
been brought from Normandy were set up within the 
inclosures. Vast multitudes of laborers were soon at 
work, throwing up embankments, and building re- 
doubts and bastions, while others were transporting 



1 82 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

the arms, the provisions, and the munitions of war, 
and storing them in security within the hnes. The 
encampment was soon completed, and the long line 
of tents were set up in streets and squares within it. 
By the time, however, that the work was done, some 
of William's agents and spies came into camp from 
the north, saying that in four days Harold would be 
upon him at the head of a hundred thousand men. 




CHAPTER X. 
The Battle of Hastings. 

Tostig.— He is driven from England.— Expedition of Tostig.— He sails to 
Norway.— Tostig's alliance with the Norwegians.— The Norwegian 
fleet.— Superstitions.— Dreams of the soldiers.— The combined fleets.— 
Attack on Scarborough.— The rolling fire.— Burning of Scarborough.— 
Tostig marches to Yorlt.— Surrender of the city.— Arrival of King Har- 
old.- Movements of Tostig.— Surprise of Tostig and his allies.— Prepa- 
rations for battle.— Negotiations between Tostig and his brother.— The 
battle. — Death of Tostig. — The Norwegians retire. — Harold attempts to 
surprise William.— His failure.- Advice of Harold's counselors.— He 
rejects it. — Harold's encampment.— The country alarmed. — Harold's 
brothers. — He proposes to visit William's camp. — Harold's arrival at 
William's lines. — He reconnoiters the camp. — Harold's despondency. — 
His spies. — Their report. — William's embassadors. — Their proposition. 
— William's propositions unreasonable. — Harold declines them. — Further 
proposals of William.— Counter proposals of Harold. — Harold's fore- 
bodings. — Proposals of his brothers. — Night before the battle. — Scenes 
in Harold's camp. — Scenes in William's camp. — Religious ceremonies. — 
A martial bishop. — William's war-horse. — Preliminary arrangements.— 
Battle of Hastings.— Defeat of Harold.— He is slain.— Final subjuga- 
tion of the island.— William crowned at Westminster. — William's 
power. — His greatness. 

THE reader will doubtless recollect that the tidings 
which William first received of the accession 
of King Harold were brought to him by Tos- 
tig, Harold's brother, on the day when he was trying 
his bow and arrows in the park at Rouen. Tostig 
was his brother's most inveterate foe. He had been, 
during the reign of Edward, a great chieftain, ruling 



i84 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

over the north of England. The city of York was 
then his capital. He had been expelled from these his 
dominions, and had quarrelled with his brother Har- 
old in respect to his right to be restored to them. In 
the course of this quarrel he was driven from the 
country altogether, and went to the continent, burning 
with rage and resentment against his brother; and 
when he came to inform William of Harold's usurpa- 
tion, his object was not merely to arouse William to 
action — he wished to act himself. He told William 
that he himself had more influence in England still, 
than his brother, and that if William would supply 
him with a small fleet, and a moderate number of 
men, he would make a descent upon the coast and 
show what he could do. 

William acceded to his proposal, and furnished him 
with the force which he required, and Tostig set sail. 
William had not, apparently, much confidence in the 
power of Tostig to produce any great eflfect, but his 
efforts, he thought, might cause some alarm in England, 
and occasion sudden and fatiguing marches to the 
troops, and thus distract and weaken King Harold's 
forces. William would not, therefore, accompany Tos • 
tig himself, but, dismissing him with such force as he 
could readily raise on so sudden a call, he remained 
himself in Normandy, and commenced in earnest his 
own grand preparations, as is described in the last 
chapter. 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 185 

Tostig did not think it prudent to attempt a land- 
ing on Englisli sliores until he had obtained some acces- 
sion to the force which William had given him. He 
accordingly passed through the Straits of Dover, and 
then turning northward, he sailed along the eastern 
shores of the German Ocean in search of allies. He 
came, at length, to Norway. He entered into nego- 
tiations there with the Norwegian king, whose name, 
too, was Harold. This northern Harold was a wild 
and adventurous soldier and sailor, a sort of sea king, 
who had spent a considerable portion of his life in 
marauding excursions upon the seas. He readily en- 
tered into Tostig's views. An arrangement was soon 
concluded, and Tostig set sail again to cross the Ger- 
man Ocean toward the British shores, while Harold 
promised to collect and equip his own fleet as soon 
as possible, and follow him. All this took place early 
in September; so that, at the same time that William's 
threatened invasion was gathering strength and men- 
acing Harold's southern frontier, a cloud equally dark 
and gloomy, and quite as threatening in its aspect, 
was rising and swelling in the north; while King Har- 
old himself, though full of vague uneasiness and alarm, 
could gain no certain information in respect to either 
of these dangers. 

The Norwegian fleet assembled at the port ap- 
pointed for the rendezvous of it, but, as the season 
was advanced and the weather stormy, the soldiers 



i86 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

there, like William's soldiers on the coast of France, 
were afraid to put to sea. Some of them had dreams 
which they considered as bad omens; and so much 
superstitious importance was attached to such ideas in 
those times, that these dreams were gravely recorded 
by the writers of the ancient chronicles, and have 
come down to us, as part of the regular and sober 
history of the times. One soldier dreamed that the 
expedition had sailed and landed on the English coast, 
and that there the English army came out to meet 
them. Before the front of the army rode a woman 
of gigantic stature, mounted on a wolf. The wolf 
had in his jaws a human body, dripping with blood, 
which he was engaged in devouring as he came 
along. The woman gave the wolf another victim 
after he had devoured the first. 

Another of these ominous dreams was the follow- 
ing: Just as the fleet was about setting sail, the 
dreamer saw a crowd of ravenous vultures and birds 
of prey come and alight everywhere upon the sails 
and rigging of the ships, as if they were going to 
accompany the expedition. Upon the summit of a 
rock near the shore there sat the figure of a female, 
with a stern and ferocious countenance, and a drawn 
sword in her hand. She was busy counting the ships, 
pointing at them, as she counted, with her sword. 
She seemed a sort of fiend of destruction, and she 
called out to the birds, to encourage them to go. 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 187 

"Go!" said she, "without fear; you shall have abun- 
dance of prey. 1 am going too." 

It is obvious that these dreams might as easily 
have been interpreted to portend death and destruc- 
tion to their English foes as to the dreamers them- 
selves. The soldiers were, however, inclined — in the 
state of mind which the season of the year, the 
threatening aspect of the skies, and the certain dan- 
gers of their distant expedition, produced — to apply 
the gloomy predictions which they imagined these 
dreams expressed, to themselves. Their chief, how- 
ever, was of too desperate and determined a charac- 
ter to pay any regard to such influences. He set sail. 
His armament crossed the German Sea in safety, and 
joined Tostig on the coast of Scotland. The com- 
bined fleet moved slowly southward, along the shore, 
watching for an opportunity to land. 

They reached, at length, the town of Scarborough, 
and landed to attack it. The inhabitants retired within 
the walls, shut the gates, and bid the invaders 
defiance. The town was situated under a hill, which 
rose in a steep acclivity upon one side. The story 
is, that the Norwegians went upon this hill, where 
they piled up an enormous heap of trunks and branches 
of trees, with the interstices filled with stubble, dried 
bark, and roots, and other such combustibles, and 
then setting the whole mass on fire, they rolled it 
down into the town — a vast ball of fire, roaring and 



i88 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

crackling more and more, by the fanning of its flames 
in the wind, as it bounded along. The intelligent 
reader will, of course, pause and hesitate, in consid- 
ering how far to credit such a story. It is obviously 
impossible that any mere pile, however closely packed, 
could be made to roll. But it is, perhaps, not abso- 
lutely impossible that trunks of trees might be framed 
together, or fastened with wet thongs or iron chains, 
after being made in the form of a rude cylinder or 
ball, and filled with combustibles within, so as to re- 
tain its integrity in such a descent. 

The account states that this strange method of 
bombardment was successful. The town was set on 
fire; the people surrendered. Tostig and the Norwe- 
gians plundered it, and then, embarking again in their 
ships, they continued their voyage. 

The intelligence of this descent upon his northern 
coasts reached Harold in London toward the close of 
September, just as he was withdrawing his forces 
from the southern frontier, as was related in the last 
chapter, under the idea that the Norman invasion 
would probably be postponed until the spring; so 
that, instead of sending his troops into their winter 
quarters, he had to concentrate them again with all 
dispatch, and march at the head of them to the 
north, to avert this new and unexpected danger. 

While King Harold was thus advancing to meet 
them, Tostig and his Norwegian allies entered the 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 189 

River Humber. Their object was to reach the city of 
York, which had been Tostig's former capital, and 
which was situated near the River Ouse, a branch of 
the Humber. They accordingly ascended the Hum- 
ber to the mouth of the Ouse, and thence up the 
latter river to a suitable point of debarkation not far 
from York. Here they landed and formed a great 
encampment. From this encampment they advanced 
to the siege of the city. The inhabitants made some 
resistance at first; but, finding that their cause was 
hopeless, they offered to surrender, and a treaty of 
surrender was finally concluded. This negotiation was 
closed toward the evening of the day, and Tostig and 
his confederate forces were to be admitted on the 
morrow. They, therefore, feeling that their prize was 
secure, withdrew to their encampment for the night, 
and left the city to its repose. 

It so happened that King Harold arrived that very 
night, coming to the rescue of the city. He expected 
to have found an army of besiegers around the walls, 
but, instead of that, there was nothing to intercept 
his progress up to the very gates of the city. The 
inhabitants opened the gates to receive him, and the 
whole detachment which was marching under his 
command passed in, while Tostig and his Norwegian 
allies were sleeping quietly in their camp, wholly un- 
conscious of the great change which had thus taken 
place in the situation of their affairs. 



I90 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

The next morning Tostig drew out a large por- 
tion of the army, and formed them in array, for the 
purpose of advancing to take possession of the city. 
Although it was September, and the weather had 
been cold and stormy, it happened that, on that 
morning, the sun came out bright, and the air was 
calm, giving promise of a warm day; and as the 
movement into the city was to be a peaceful one — 
a procession, as it were, and not a hostile march — 
the men were ordered to leave their coats of mail 
and all their heavy armor in camp, that they might 
march the more unencumbered. While they were 
advancing in this unconcerned and almost defenseless 
condition, they saw before them, on the road leading 
to the city, a great cloud of dust arising. It was a 
strong body of King Harold's troops coming out to 
attack them. At first, Tostig and the Norwegians 
were completely lost and bewildered at the appear- 
ance of so unexpected a spectacle. Very soon they 
could see weapons glittering here and there, and ban- 
ners flying. A cry of " The enemy ! The enemy !" 
arose, and passed along their ranks, producing univer- 
sal alarm. Tostig and the Norwegian Harold halted 
their men, and marshaled them hastily in battle ar- 
ray. The English Harold did the same, when he had 
drawn up near to the front of the enemy; both par- 
ties then paused, and stood surveying one another. 

Presently there was seen advancing from the Eng- 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 191 

lish side a squadron of twenty horsemen, splendidly 
armed, and bearing a flag of truce. They approached 
to within a short distance of the Norwegian lines, 
when a herald, who was among them, called out 
aloud for Tostig. Tostig came forward in answer to 
the summons. The herald then proclaimed to Tostig 
that his brother did not wish to contend with him, 
but desired, on the contrary, that they should live to- 
gether in harmony. He offered him peace, therefore, 
if he would lay down his arms, and he promised to 
restore him his former possessions and honors. 

Tostig seemed very much inclined to receive this 
proposition favorably. He paused and hesitated. At 
length he asked the messenger what terms King Har- 
old would make with his friend and ally, the Nor- 
wegian Harold. "He shall have," replied the messen- 
ger, "seven feet of English ground for a grave. He 
shall have a little more than that, for he is taller than 
common men." "Then," replied Tostig, "tell my 
brother to prepare for battle. It shall never be said 
that I abandoned and betrayed my ally and friend." 

The troop returned with Tostig's answer to Har- 
old's lines, and the battle almost immediately began. 
Of course the most eager and inveterate hostility of 
the English army would be directed against the Nor- 
wegians and their king, whom they considered as for- 
eign intruders, without any excuse or pretext for their 
aggression. It accordingly happened that, very soon 



192 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

after the commencement of the conflict, Harold the 
Norwegian fell, mortally wounded by an arrow in his 
throat. The English king then made new proposals 
to Tostig to cease the combat, and come to some 
terms of accommodation. But, in the meantime, Tos- 
tig had become himself incensed, and would listen to 
no overtures of peace. He continued the combat un- 
til he was himself killed. The remaining combatants 
in his army had now no longer any motive for resist- 
ance. Harold offered them a free passage to their 
ships, that they might return home in peace, if they 
would lay down their arms. They accepted the offer, 
retired on board their ships, and set sail. Harold then, 
having, in the mean time, heard of William's landing 
on the southern coast, set out on his return to the 
southward, to meet the more formidable enemy that 
menaced him there. 

His army, though victorious, was weakened by the 
fatigues of the march, and by the losses suffered in 
the battle. Harold himself had been wounded, though 
not so severely as to prevent his continuing to exer- 
cise the command. He pressed on toward the south 
with great energy, sending messages on every side, 
into the surrounding country, on his line of march, 
calling upon the chieftains to arm themselves and their 
followers, and to come on with all possible dispatch, 
and join him. He hoped to advance so rapidly to the 
southern coast as to surprise William before he should 



HAROLD RENOUNCING THE CROH^N 
OF ENGLAND 



1066] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 193 

have fully intrenched himself in his camp, and without 
his being aware of the enemy's approach. But Wil- 
liam, in order to guard effectually against surprise, had 
sent out small reconnoitering parties of horsemen on 
all the roads leading northward, that they might bring 
him in intelligence of the first approach of the enemy. 
Harold's advance guard met these parties, and saw 
them as they drove rapidly back to the camp to give 
the alarm. Thus the hope of surprising William was 
disappointed. Harold found, too, by his spies, as he 
drew near, to his utter dismay, that William's forces 
were four times as numerous as his own. It would, 
of course, be madness for him to think of attacking an 
enemy in his intrenchments with such an inferior force. 
The only alternative left him was either to retreat, or 
else to take some strong position and fortify himself 
there, in the hope of being able to resist the invaders 
and arrest their advance, though he was not strong 
enough to attack them. 

Some of his counselors advised him not to hazard 
a battle at all, but to fall back toward London, carry- 
ing with him or destroying everything which could 
afford sustenance to William's army, from the whole 
breadth of the land. This would soon, they said, 
reduce William's army to great distress for want of 
food, since it would be impossible for him to trans- 
port supplies across the Channel for so vast a multi- 
tude. Besides, they said, this plan would compel 

M. of H.— la— 15 



194 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

William, in the extremity to which he would be re- 
duced, to make so many predatory excursions among 
the more distant villages and towns, as would exas- 
perate the inhabitants, and induce them to join Har- 
old's army in great numbers to repel the invasion. 
Harold listened to these counsels, but said, after 
consideration, that he could never adopt such a plan. 
He could not be so derelict to his duty as to lay 
waste a country which he was under obligations to 
protect and save, or compel his people to come to his 
aid by exposing them, designedly, to the excesses and 
cruelties of so ferocious an enemy. 

Harold determined, therefore, on giving William 
battle. It was not necessary, however, for him to 
attack the invader. He perceived at once that if he 
should take a strong position and fortify himself in 
it, WiUiam must necessarily attack him, since a for- 
eign army, just landed in the country, could not long 
remain inactive on the shore. Harold accordingly 
chose a position six or seven miles from William's 
camp, and fortified himself strongly there. Of course 
neither army was in sight of the other, or knew the 
numbers, disposition, or plans of the enemy. The 
country between them was, so far as the inhabitants 
were concerned, a scene of consternation and terror. 
No one knew at what point the two vast clouds of 
danger and destruction which were hovering near 
them would meet, or over what regions the terrible 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 195 

storm which was to burst forth when the hour of 
that meeting should come, would sweep in its de- 
structive fury. The inhabitants, therefore, were every 
where flying in dismay, conveying away the aged 
and the helpless by any means which came most 
readily to hand; taking with them, too, such treasures 
as they could carry, and hiding, in rude and uncertain 
places of concealment, those which they were com- 
pelled to leave behind. The region, thus, which lay 
between the two encampments was rapidly becoming 
a solitude and a desolation, across which no com- 
munication was made, and no tidings passed to give 
the armies at the encampments intelligence of each 
other. 

Harold had two brothers among the officers of his 
army, Gurth and Leofwin. Their conduct toward the 
king seems to have been of a more fraternal charac- 
ter than that of Tostig, who had acted the part of a 
rebel and an enemy. Gurth and Leofwin, on the con- 
trary, adhered to his cause, and, as the hour of dan- 
ger and the great crisis which was to decide their 
fate drew nigh, they kept close to his side, and 
evinced a truly fraternal solicitude for his safety. It 
was they, specially, who had recommended to Harold 
to fall back on London, and not risk his life, and the 
fate of his kingdom, on the uncertain event of a battle. 

As soon as Harold had completed his encampment, 
he expressed a desire to Gurth to ride across the in- 



196 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

termediate country and take a view of William's lines. 
Such an undertaking was less dangerous then than it 
would be at the present day; for now, such a recon- 
noitering party would be discovered from the enemy's 
encampment, at a great distance, by means of spy- 
glasses, and a twenty-four-pound shot or a shell would 
be sent from a battery to blow the party to pieces or 
drive them away. The only danger then was of be- 
ing pursued by a detachment of horsemen from the 
camp, or surrounded by an ambuscade. To guard 
against these dangers, Harold and Gurth took the 
most powerful and fleetest horses in the camp, and 
they called out a small but strong guard of well- 
selected men to escort them. Thus provided and at- 
tended, they rode over the enemy's lines, and advanced 
so near that, from a small eminence to which they 
ascended, they could survey the whole scene of Wil- 
liam's encampment; the palisades and embankments 
with which it was guarded, which extended for miles; 
the long lines of tents within; the vast multitude of 
soldiers; the knights and officers riding to and fro, 
glittering with steel, and the grand pavilion of the 
duke himself, with the consecrated banner of the 
cross floating above it. Harold was very much im- 
pressed with the grandeur of the spectacle. 

After gazing on this scene for some time in si- 
lence, Harold said to Gurth that perhaps, after all, the 
policy of falling back would have been the wisest 



ic66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 197 

for them to adopt, rather than to risk a battle with 
so overwhelming a force as they saw before them. 
He did not know, he added, but that it would be 
best for them to change their plan, and adopt that 
policy now, Gurth said that it was too late. They 
had taken their stand, and now for them to break up 
their encampment and retire would be considered a 
retreat and not a maneuver, and it would discourage 
and dishearten the whole realm. 

After surveying thus, as long as they desired to 
do so, the situation and extent of William's encamp- 
ment, Harold's party returned to their own lines, still 
determined to make a stand there against the invaders, 
but feeling great doubt and despondency in respect 
to the result. Harold sent over, too, in the course of 
the day, some spies. The men whom he employed 
for this purpose were Normans by birth, and they 
could speak the French language. There were many 
Normans in England, who had come over in King 
Edward's time. These Norman spies could, of course, 
disguise themselves, and mingle, without attracting 
attention, among the thousands of workmen and camp 
followers that were going and coming continually 
around the grounds which William's army occupied. 
They did this so effectually, that they penetrated 
within the encampment without difficulty, examined 
every thing, and, in due time, returned to Harold 
with their report. They gave a formidable account of 



198 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

the numbers and condition of William's troops. There 
was a large corps of bowmen in the army, which 
had adopted a fashion of being shaven and shorn in 
such a manner that the spies mistook them for priests. 
They told Harold, accordingly, on their return, that 
there were more priests in William's camp than there 
were soldiers in all his army. 

During this eventful day, William, too, sent a body 
of horsemen across the country which separated the 
two encampments, though his emissaries were not 
spies but embassadors, with propositions for peace. 
William had no wish to fight a battle, if what he 
considered as rightfully his kingdom could be deliv- 
ered to him without it; and he determined to make 
one final effort to obtain a peaceable surrender of it, 
before coming to the dreadful resort of an appeal to 
arms. He accordingly sent his embassy with three 
propositions to make to the English king. The princi- 
pal messenger in this company was a monk, whose . 
name was Maigrot. He rode, with a proper escort 
and a flag of truce, to Harold's lines. The proposi- 
tions were these, by accepting either of which the 
monk said that Harold might avoid a battle, i. That 
Harold should surrender the kingdom to William, as 
he had solemnly sworn to do over the sacred relics 
in Normandy. 2. That they should both agree to re- 
fer the whole subject of controversey between them 
to the pope, and abide by his decision. 3, That they 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 199 

should settle the dispute by single combat, the two 
claimants to the crown to fight a duel on the plain, 
in presence of their respective armies. 

It is obvious that Harold could not accept either 
of these propositions. The first was to give up the 
whole point at issue. As for the second, the pope 
had already prejudged the case, and if it were to be 
referred to him, there could be no doubt that he 
would simply reaffirm his former decision. And in 
respect to single combat, the disadvantage on Harold's 
part would be as great in such a contest as it would 
be in the proposed arbitration. He was himself a 
man of comparatively slender form and of little bodily 
strength. William, on the other hand, was distin- 
guished for his size, and for his extraordinary muscu- 
lar energy. In a modern combat with fire-arms these 
personal advantages would be of no avail, but in those 
days, when the weapons were battle-axes, lances, 
and swords, they were almost decisive of the result. 
Harold therefore declined all William's propositions, 
and the monk returned. 

William seems not to have been wholly discouraged 
by this failure of his first attempt at negotiation, for 
he sent his embassage a second time to make one 
more proposal. It was, that if Harold would con- 
sent to acknowledge William as King of England, 
William would assign the whole territory to him and 
to his brother Gurth, to hold as provinces, under 



200 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

William's general sway. Under this arrangement Wil- 
liam would himself return to Normandy, making the 
city of Rouen, which was his capital there, the capi- 
tal of the whole united realm. To this proposal 
Harold replied, that he could not, on any terms, give 
up his rights as sovereign of England. He therefore 
declined this proposal also. He, however, now made 
a proposition in his turn. He was willing, he said, 
to compromise the dispute, so far as it could be done 
by the payment of money. If William would abandon 
his invasion and return to Normandy, giving up his 
claims to the English crown, he would pay him, 
he said, any sum of money that he would name. 

William could not accept this proposal. He was, 
as he believed, the true and rightful heir to the 
throne of England, and there was a point of honor 
involved, as well as a dictate of ambition to be obeyed, 
in insisting on the claim. In the mean time, the 
day had passed, while these fruitless negotiations had 
been pending. Night was coming on. William's 
officers and counselors began to be uneasy at the de- 
lay. They said that every hour new re-enforcements 
were coming into Harold's camp, while they them- 
selves were gaining no advantage, and, consequently, 
the longer the battle was delayed, the less was the 
certainty of victory. So William promised them that 
he would attack King Harold in his camp the very 
next morning. 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 201 

As the time for the great final struggle drew near, 
Harold's mind was oppressed more and more with a 
sense of anxiety and with forboding fears. His broth- 
ers, too, were ill at ease. Their solicitude was in- 
creased by the recollection of Harold's oath, and of 
the awful sanctions with which they feared the sa- 
cred relics might have invested it. They were not 
sure that their brother's excuse for setting it aside 
would save him from the guilt and curse of perjury 
in the sight of Heaven. So they proposed, on the 
eve of the battle, that Harold himself should retire, 
and leave them to conduct the defense. "We can 
not deny," they said, "that you did take the oath; 
and, notwithstanding the circumstances which seem 
to absolve you from the obligation, it is best to avoid, 
if possible, the open violation of it. It will be better, 
on the whole, for you to leave the army and go to 
London. You can aid very effectually in the defense 
of the kingdom by raising re-enforcements there. 
We will stay and encounter the actual battle. Heaven 
can not be displeased with us for so doing, for we 
shall be only discharging the duty incumbent on all, 
of defending their native land from foreign invasion." 

Harold would not consent to adopt this plan. He 
could not retire himself, he said, at the hour of ap- 
proaching danger, and leave his brothers and his friends 
exposed, when it was his crown for which they were 
contending. 



202 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

Such were the circumstances of the two armies on 
the evening' before the battle; and, of course, in such 
a state of things, the tendency of the minds of men 
would be, in Harold's camp, to gloom and despond- 
ency, and in William's, to confidence and exultation. 
Harold undertook, as men in his circumstances often 
do, to lighten the load which weighed upon his own 
heart and oppressed the spirits of his men, by feasting 
and wine. He ordered a plentiful supper to be served, 
and supplied his soldiers with abundance of drink; and 
it is said that his whole camp exhibited, during the 
whole night, one wide-spread scene of carousing and 
revelry, the troops being gathered every where in 
groups around their camp fires, some half stupefied, 
others quarreling, and others still, singing national songs, 
and dancing with wild excitement, according to the 
various effects produced upon different constitutions by 
the intoxicating influence of beer and wine. 

In William's camp there were witnessed very dif- 
ferent scenes. There were a great many monks and 
ecclesiastics in the train of his army, and, on the night 
before the battle, they spent the time in saying masses, 
reading litanies and prayers, chanting anthems, and in 
other similar acts of worship, assisted by the soldiers 
who, gathered in great congregations, for this weird 
worship, in the open spaces among the tents and 
around the camp fires. At length they all retired to 
rest, feeling an additional sense of safety in respect to 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 203 

the work of the morrow by having, as they supposed, 
entitled themselves, by their piety, to the protection of 
Heaven. 

In the morning, too, in William's camp, the first 
thing done was to convene the army for a grand cel- 
ebration of mass. It is a curious illustration of the 
mingling of the religious, or, perhaps, we ought rather 
to say, the superstitious sentiment of the times, with 
the spirit of war, that the bishop who officiated in 
this^ solemn service of the mass wore a coat of mail 
under his pontifical attire, and an attendant stood by 
his side, while he was offering his prayers, with a 
steel-pointed spear in his hand, ready for the martial 
prelate to assume, as soon as the service should be 
ended. Accordingly, when the religious duty was 
performed, the bishop threw off his surplice, took his 
spear, and mounting his white charger, which was 
also all saddled and bridled beside him, he headed a 
brigade of horse, and rode on to the assault of the 
enemy. 

William himself mounted a very magnificent war- 
horse from Spain, a present which he had formerly 
received from one of his wealthy barons. The name 
of the horse was Bayard. From William's neck were 
suspended some of the most sacred of the relics over 
which Harold had taken his false oath. He imagined 
that there would be some sort of charm in them, to 
protect his life, and to make the judgment of Heaven 



204 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

more sure against the perjurer. The standard which 
the pope had blessed was borne by his side by a 
young standard bearer, who was very proud of the 
honor. An older soldier, however, on whom the care 
of this standard officially devolved, had asked to be 
excused from carrying it. He wished, he said, to do 
his work that day with the sword. While making 
these preliminary arrangements for going into battle, 
William, with the party around him, stood upon a 
gentle eminence in the middle of the camp, and in 
sight of the whole army. Every one was struck with 
admiration at the splendid figure which their com- 
mander made — his large and well-formed limbs cov- 
ered with steel, and his horse, whose form was as 
noble as that of his master, prancing restlessly, as if 
impatient for the battle to begin. 

When all were ready, the Norman army advanced 
gayly and joyously to attack the English lines; but 
the gayety and joyousness of the scene soon disap- 
peared, as corps after corps got fairly engaged in the 
awful work of the day. For ten long hours there 
reigned over the whole field one wide -spread scene 
of havoc and death — every soul among all those 
countless thousands delivered up to the supreme do- 
minion of the most dreadful passions, excited to a 
perfect phrensy of hatred, rage, and revenge, and all 
either mercilessly killing others, or dying themselves 
in agony and despair. When night came, the Nor- 



io66] BATTLE OF HASTINGS 205 

mans were everywhere victorious. They were in 
full possession of the field, and they rode trium- 
phantly to and fro through Harold's camp, leaping their 
horses over the bodies of the dead and dying which 
covered the ground. Those of King Harold's follow- 
ers that had escaped the slaughter of the day fled in 
hopeless confusion toward the north, where the fly- 
ing masses strewed the roads for miles with the bod- 
ies of men who sank down on the way, spent with 
wounds or exhausted by fatigue. 

In the morning, William marshaled his men on the 
field, and called over the names of the officers and 
men, as they had been registered in Normandy, for 
the purpose of ascertaining who were killed. While 
this melancholy ceremony was going on, two monks 
came in, sent from the remains of the English army, 
and saying that King Harold was missing, and that it 
was rumored that he had been slain. If so, his body 
must be lying somewhere, they said, upon the field, 
and they wished for permission to make search for it. 
The permission was granted. With the aid of some 
soldiers, they began to explore the ground, turning over 
and examining every lifeless form which, by the dress 
or the armor, might seem to be possibly the king's. 
Their search was for a long time vain; the ghastly 
faces of the dead were so mutilated and changed that 
nobody could be identified. At length, however, a 
woman who had been in Harold's family, and knew his 



2o6 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

person more intimately than tiiey, found and recog- 
nized the body, and the monks and the soldiers car- 
ried it away. 

The battle of Hastings sealed and settled the con- 
troversy in respect to the English crown. It is true 
that the adherents of Harold, and also those of Edgar 
Atheling, made afterward various efforts to rally their 
forces and recover the kingdom, but in vain. Wil- 
liam advanced to London, fortified himself there, 
and made excursions from that city as a center, until 
he reduced the island to his sway. He was crowned 
at length, at Westminster Abbey with great pomp and 
parade. He sent for Matilda to come and join him, 
and instated her in his palace as Queen of England. 
He confiscated the property of all the English nobles 
who had fought against him, and divided it among the 
Norman chieftains who had aided him in the inva- 
sion. He made various excursions to and from Nor- 
mandy himself, being received everywhere throughout 
his dominions, on both sides the Channel, with the 
most distinguished honors. In a word, he became, in 
the course of a few years after he landed, one of the 
greatest and most powerful potentates on the globe. 
How far all his riches and grandeur were from making 
him happy, will appear in the following chapter. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Prince Robert's Rebellion. 

William's oldest son. — His character. — William's conflicts with his son Robert. 

— William Rufus. — William's son Henry. — Robert nicknamed Short 
Boots. — Robert's betrothment. — William's motives. — Death of Margaret. — 
More trouble. — Robert's political power.— His ambition. — Robert claims 
Normandy.— William refuses it.— Castle at Iv'Aigle.— Quarrel between 
Robert and William Rufus. — The combatants parted.— Robert's rage. — 
Robert's rebellion. — Anxiety and distress of Matilda.— Measures of Ma- 
tilda. — Advantages of William.— Robert lays down his arms. — Interview 
with his father.— Recriminations. — The interview fruitless. — Robert 
goes to Flanders. — His treasonable correspondence. — Action of Philip. — 
He sides with Robert. — Robert's dissipation. — Matilda sends him sup- 
plies. — Matilda's secret supplies. — She is discovered. — Matilda's messen- 
ger seized. — William's reproaches. — Matilda's reply.— William's anger. 

— Sampson's escape. — Things grow worse.— Preparations for war. — Ma- 
tilda's distress. — William wounded by his son.— The battle goes against 
him.— Matilda's anguish.— The reconciliation. 

AMBITIOUS men, who devote their time and 
attention, through all the early years of life, 
to their personal and political aggrandize- 
ment, have little time to appropriate to the govern- 
ment and education of their children, and their later 
years are often embittered by the dissipation and 
vice, or by the unreasonable exactions of their sons. 

(ao7) 



2o8 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

At least it was so in William's case. By the time 
that his public enemies were subdued, and he found 
himself undisputed master both of his kingdom and 
his duchy, his peace and happiness were destroyed, 
and the tranquility of his whole realm was disturbed 
by a terrible family quarrel. 

The name of his oldest son was Robert. He was 
fourteen years old when his father set off on his in- 
vasion of England. At that time he was a sort of 
spoiled child, having been his mother's favorite, and, 
as such, always greatly indulged by her. When Wil- 
liam went away, it will be recollected that he ap- 
pointed Matilda regent, to govern Normandy during 
his absence. This boy was also named in the re- 
gency, so that he was nominally associated with his 
mother, and he considered himself, doubtless, as the 
more important personage of the two. In a word, 
while William was engaged in England, prosecuting 
his conquests there, Robert was growing up in Nor- 
mandy a vain, self-conceited, and ungovernable young 
man. 

His father, in going back and forth between Eng- 
land and Normandy, often came into conflict with his 
son, as usual in such cases. In these contests Matilda 
took sides with the son. William's second son, whose 
name was William Rufus, was jealous of his older 
brother, and was often provoked by the overbearing 
and imperious spirit which Robert displayed. Wil- 



I077] ROBERT'S REBELLION 209 

Ham Rufus thus naturally adhered to the father's part 
in the family feud. William Rufus was as rough and 
turbulent in spirit as Robert, but he had not been so 
indulged. He possessed, therefore, more self-control; 
he knew very well how to suppress his propensities, 
and conceal the unfavorable aspects of his character 
when in the presence of his father. 

There was a third brother, named Henry. He was 
of a more quiet and inoffensive character, and avoided 
taking an active part in the quarrel, except so far as 
Williarn Rufus led him on. He was William Rufus's 
friend and companion, and, as such, Robert consid- 
ered him as his enemy. All, in fact, except Matilda 
were against Robert, who looked down, in a haughty 
and domineering manner — as the oldest son and heir 
is very apt to do in rich and powerful families — upon 
the comparative insignificance of his younger brethren. 
The king, instead of restraining this imperious spirit 
in his son, as he might, perhaps, have done by a 
considerate and kind, and at the same time, decisive 
exercise of authority, teased and tormented him by 
sarcasms and petty vexations. Among other instances 
of this, he gave him the nickname of Short 'Boots, 
because he was of inferior stature. As Robert was, 
however, at this time of full age, he was stung to 
the quick at having such a stigma attached to him by 
his father, and his bosom burned with secret senti- 
ments of resentment and revenge. 

M. of H.— 12 — 14 



no WILLIAM THE CONaUEROR 

He had, besides, other causes of complaint against 
his father, more serious still. When he was a very 
young child, his father, according to the custom of the 
times, had espoused him to the daughter and heiress 
of a neighboring earl, a child like himself. Her name 
was Margaret. The earldom which this little Marga- 
ret was to inherit was Maine. It was on the frontiers 
of Normandy, and it was a rich and valuable posses- 
sion. It was a part of the stipulation of the marriage 
contract that the young bride's domain was to be de- 
livered to the father of the bridegroom, to be held by 
him until the bridegroom should become of age, 
and the marriage should be fully consummated. In 
fact, the getting possession of this rich inheritance, 
with a prospect of holding it so many years, was very 
probably the principal end which William had in view 
in contracting for a matrimonal union, so very prema- 
ture. 

If this was, in reality, William's plan, it resulted, 
in the end, even more favorably than he had antici- 
pated; for the little heiress died a short time after her 
inheritance was put into the possession of her father- 
in-law. There was nobody to demand a restoration 
of it, and so William continued to hold it until his son, 
the bridegroom, became of age. Robert then demanded 
it, contending that it was justly his. William refused 
to surrender it. He maintained that what had passed 
between his son in his infancy, and the little Margaret, 



I077] ROBERT'S REBELLION 211 

was not a marriage, but only a betrothment — a con- 
tract for a future marriage, which was to take place 
when the parties were of age — that, since Margaret's 
death prevented the consummation of the union, Rob- 
ert was never her husband, and could not, consequently, 
acquire the rights of a husband. The lands, therefore, 
ought manifestly, he said, to remain in the hands of 
her guardian, and whatever rights any other persons 
might have, claiming to succeed Margaret as her natural 
heirs it was plain that his son could have no title 
whatever. 

However satisfactory this reasoning might be to 
the mind of William, Robert was only exasperated by 
it. He looked upon the case as one of extreme in- 
justice and oppression on the part of his father, who, 
not content, he said, with his own enormous posses- 
sions, must add to them by robbing his own son. In 
this opinion Robert's mother, Matilda, agreed with him. 
As for William Rufus and Henry, they paid little at- 
tention to the argument, but were pleased with the re- 
sult of it, and highly enjoyed their brother's vexation 
and chagrin in not being able to get possession of 
his earldom. 

There was another very serious subject of dispute 
between Robert and his father, it has already been 
stated, that when the duke set out on his expedition 
for the invasion of England, he left Matilda and Robert 
together in charge of the duchy. At the commence- 



212 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

ment of the period of his absence Robert was very 
young, and the actual power rested mainly in his 
mother's hands. As he grew older, however, he be- 
gan to exercise an increasing influence and control. 
In fact, as he was himself ambitious and aspiring, and 
his mother indulgent, the power passed very rapidly 
into his hands. It was eight years from the time that 
William left Normandy before his power was so far 
settled and established in England that he could again 
take the aflairs of his original realm into his hands. 
He had left Robert, at that time, a mere boy of four- 
teen, who, though rude and turbulent in character, was 
still politically powerless. He found him, on his re- 
turn, a man of twenty-two, ruder and more turbulent 
than before, and in the full possession of political 
power. This power, too, he found him very unwilling 
to surrender. 

In fact, when William came to receive back the 
province of Normandy again, Robert almost refused 
to surrender it. He said that his father had always 
promised him the duchy of Normandy as his domain 
so soon as he should become of age, and he claimed 
now the fulfillment of this promise. Besides, he said, 
that, now that his father was king of England, his 
former realm was of no consequence to him. It did not 
add sensibly to his influence or his power, and he 
might, therefore, without suffering any sensible loss 
himself, grant it to his son. William, on his part, did 



1076] ROBERT'S REBELLION 213 

not acknowledge the force of either of these arguments. 
He would not admit that he had ever promised Nor- 
mandy to his son; and as to voluntarily relinquishing 
any part of his possessions, he had no faith in the policy 
of a man's giving up his power or his property to his 
children until they were justly entitled to inherit it by 
his death; at any rate, he should not do it. He had no 
idea, as he expressed it, "of putting off his clothes be- 
fore he was going to bed." 

The irritation and ill-will which these dissensions 
produced, grew deeper and more inveterate every day, 
though the disagreement had been thus far a private 
and domestic dispute, confined, in its influence, to the 
king's immediate household. An occasion, however, 
now occurred, on which the private family feud broke 
out into an open public quarrel. The circumstances 
were these: 

King William had a castle in Normandy, at a place 
called L'Aigle, He was spending some time there, in 
the year 1076, with his court and family. One day 
William Rufus and Henry were in one of the upper 
apartments of the castle, playing with dice, and 
amusing themselves, in company with other young 
men of the court, in various ways. There was a 
window in the apartment leading out upon a balcony, 
from which one might look down upon the court- 
yard of the castle below. Robert was in this court- 
yard with some of his companions, walking there in 



214 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

an irritated state of mind, whicii had been produced 
by some previous disputes with his brothers, Wil- 
liam Rufus looked down from the balcony and saw 
him, and by way, perhaps, of quenching his anger, 
poured some water down upon him. The deed 
changed the suppressed and silent irritation in Rob- 
ert's heart to a perfect phrensy of rage and revenge. 
He drew his sword and sprang to the stair-case. He 
uttered loud and terrible imprecations as he went, de- 
claring that he would kill the author of such an in- 
sult, even if he was his brother. The court-yard was, 
of course, immediately filled with shouts and excla- 
mations of alarm, and every body pressed forward 
toward the room from which the water had been 
thrown, some to witness, and some to prevent the 
affray. 

The king himself, who happened to be in that 
part of the castle at the time, was one of the number. 
He reached the apartment just in time to interpose 
between his sons, and prevent the commission of the 
awful crime of fratricide. As it was, he found it ex- 
tremely difficult to part the ferocious combatants. It 
required all his paternal authority, and not a little 
actual force, to arrest the affray. He succeeded, how- 
ever, at length, with the help of the by-standers, in 
parting his sons, and Robert, out of breath, and pale 
with impotent rage, was led away. 

Robert considered his father as taking sides 



I076] ROBERT'S REBELLION 215 

against him in this quarrel, and he declared that he 
could not, and would not, endure such treatment any 
longer. He found some sympathy in the conversation 
of his mother, to whom he went immediately with 
bitter complainings. She tried to soothe and quiet his 
wounded spirit, but he would not be pacified. He 
spent the afternoon and evening in organizing a party 
of wild and desperate young men from among the 
nobles of the court, with a view of raising a rebel- 
lion against his father, and getting possession of Nor- 
mandy by force. They kept their designs profoundly 
secret, but prepared to leave L 'Aigle that night, to 
go and seize Rouen, the capital, which they hoped 
to surprise into a surrender. Accordingly, in the mid- 
dle of the night, the desperate troop mounted their 
horses and rode away. In the morning the king 
found that they were gone, and he sent an armed 
force after them. Their plan of surprising Rouen 
failed. The king's detachment overtook them, and, 
after a sharp contest, succeeded in capturing a few 
of the rebels, though Robert himself, accompanied by 
some of the more desperate of his followers, escaped 
over the frontier into a neighboring province, where 
he sought refuge in the castle of one of his father's 
enemies. 

This result, as might have been expected, filled 
the mind of Matilda with anxiety and distress. A 
civil war between her husband and her son was not 



2i6 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

inevitable; and while every consideration of prudence 
and of duty required her to espouse the father's cause, 
her maternal love, a principle stronger far, in most 
cases, than prudence and duty combined, drew her 
irresistibly toward her son. Robert collected around 
him all the discontented and desperate spirits of the 
realm, and for a long time continued to make his fa- 
ther infinite trouble. Matilda, while she forbore to 
advocate his cause openly in the presence of the 
king, kept up a secret communication with him. She 
sent him information and advice from time to time, 
and sometimes supplies, and was thus, technically, 
guilty of a great crime — the crime of maintaining a 
treasonable correspondence with a rebel. In a moral 
point of view, however, her conduct may have been 
entirely right; at any rate, its influence was very sal- 
utary, for she did all in her power to restrain both 
the father and the son; and by the influence which 
she thus exerted, she doubtless mitigated very much 
the fierceness of the struggle. 

Of course, the advantage, in such a civil war as 
this, would be wholly on the side of the sovereign. 
William had all the power and resources of the king- 
dom in his own hands — the army, the towns, the cas- 
tles, the treasures. Robert had a troop of wild, des- 
perate, and unmanageable outlaws, without authority, 
without money, without a sense of justice on their side. 
He gradually became satisfied that the contest was vain. 



1076] ROBERT'S REBELLION 217 

In proportion as the activity of the hostilities dimin- 
ished, Matilda became more and more open in her ef- 
forts to restrain it, and to allay the animosity on either 
side. She succeeded, finally, in inducing Robert to 
lay down his arms, and then brought about an inter- 
view between the parties, in hopes of a peaceful set- 
tlement of the quarrel. 

It appeared very soon, however, at this interview, 
that there was no hope of anything like a real and 
cordial reconciliation. Though both the father and 
son had become weary of the unnatural war which 
they had waged against each other, yet the ambitious 
and selfish desires on both sides, in which the con- 
test had originated, remained unchanged. Robert be- 
gan the conference by imperiously demanding of his 
father the fulfillment of his promise to give him the 
government of Normandy. His father replied by re- 
proaching him with his unnatural and wicked rebel- 
lion, and warned him of the danger he incurred, in 
imitating the example of Absalom, of sharing that 
wretched rebel's fate. Robert rejoined that he did 
not come to meet his father for the sake of hearing 
a sermon preached. He had had enough of sermons, 
he said, when he was a boy, studying grammar. 
He wanted his father to do him justice, not to preach 
to him. The king said that he should never divide 
his dominions, while he lived, with any one; and 
added, notwithstanding what Robert had contemp- 



2i8 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

tuously said about sermons, that the Scripture declared 
that a house divided against itself could not stand. 
He then proceeded to reproach and incriminate the 
prince in the severest manner for his disloyalty as a 
subject, and his undutifulness and ingratitude as a 
son. It was intolerable, he said, that a son should 
become the rival and bitterest enemy of his father, 
when it was to him that he owed, not merely all 
that he enjoyed, but his very existence itself. 

These reproaches were probably uttered in an im- 
perious and angry manner, and with that spirit of 
denunciation which only irritates the accused and 
arouses his resentment, instead of awakening feelings 
of penitence and contrition. At any rate, the thought 
of his filial ingratitude, as his father presented it, pro- 
duced no relenting in Robert's mind. He abruptly 
terminated the interview, and went out of his father's 
presence in a rage. 

In spite of all his mother's exertions and entreaties, 
he resolved to leave the country once more. He said 
he would rather be an exile, and wander homeless in 
foreign lands, than to remain in his father's court, 
and be treated in so unjust and ignominious a man- 
ner, by one who was bound by the strongest pos- 
sible obligations to be his best and truest friend. 
Matilda could not induce him to change this determi- 
nation; and, accordingly, taking with him a few of 
the most desperate and dissolute of his companions. 



I077] ROBERT'S REBELLION 219 

he went northward, crossed the frontier, and sought 
refuge in Flanders. Flanders, it will be recollected, 
was Matilda's native land. Her brother was the Earl 
of Flanders at this time. The earl received young 
Robert very cordially, both for his sister's sake, and 
also, probably, in some degree, as a means of petty 
hostility against King William, his powerful neighbor, 
whose glory and good fortune he envied. 

Robert had not the means or the resources neces- 
sary for renewing an open war with his father, but 
his disposition to do this was as strong as ever, and 
he began immediately to open secret communications 
and correspondence with all the nobles and barons in 
Normandy whom he thought disposed to espouse his 
cause. He succeeded in inducing them to make se- 
cret contributions of funds to supply his pecuniary 
wants, of course promising to repay them with ample 
grants and rewards so soon as he should obtain his 
rights. He maintained similar communications, too, 
with Matilda, though she kept them very profoundly 
secret from her husband. 

Robert had other friends besides those whom he 
found thus furtively in Normandy, The King of 
France himself was much pleased at the breaking out 
of this terrible feud in the family of his neighbor, who, 
from being his dependent and vassal, had become, by 
his conquest of England, his great competitor and 
rival in the estimation of mankind. Philip was dis- 



220 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

posed to rejoice at any occurrences which tended to 
tarnish William's glory, or which threatened a divi- 
sion and diminution of his power. He directed his 
agents, therefore, both in Normandy and in Flanders, to 
encourage and promote the dissension by every means 
in their power. He took great care not to commit 
himself by any open and positive promises of aid, 
and yet still he contrived, by a thousand indirect 
means, to encourage Robert to expect it. Thus the 
mischief was widened and extended, while yet noth- 
ing effectual was done toward organizing an insurrec- 
tion. In fact, Robert had neither the means nor the 
mental capacity necessary for maturing and carrying 
into effect any actual plan of rebellion. In the mean 
time, months passed away, and as nothing effectual 
was done, Robert's adherents in Normandy became 
gradually discouraged. They ceased their contribu- 
tions, and gradually forgot their absent and incompe- 
tent leader. Robert spent his time in dissipation and 
vice, squandering; in feasts and in the company of 
abandoned men and women, the means which his 
followers sent him to enable him to prepare for the 
war; and when, at last, these supplies failed him, he 
would have been reduced gradually to great distress 
and destitution, were it not that one faithful and de- 
voted friend still adhered to him. That friend was his 
mother. 

Matilda knew very well that whatever she did 



I077] ROBERT'S REBELLION 221 

for her absent son must be done in the most clandes- 
tine manner, and this required much stratagem and 
contrivance on her part. She was aided, however, 
in her efforts at concealment by her husband's absence. 
He was now for a time in England, having been 
called there by some pressing demands of public duty. 
He left a great minister of state in charge of Nor- 
mandy, whose vigilance Matilda thought it would be 
comparatively easy to elude. She sent to Robert, in 
Flanders, first her own private funds. Then she em- 
ployed for this purpose a portion of such public funds 
as came into her hands. The more she sent, how- 
ever, the more frequent and imperious were Robert's 
demands for fresh supplies. The resources of a 
mother, whether great or small, are always soon ex- 
hausted by the insatiable requirements of a dissolute 
and profligate son. When Matilda's money was gone, 
she sold her jewels, then her more expensive clothes, 
and, finally, such objects of value, belonging to her- 
self or to her husband, as could be most easily and 
privately disposed of. The minister, who was very 
faithful and watchful in the discharge of his duties, 
observed indications that something mysterious was 
going on. His suspicions were aroused. He watched 
Matilda's movements, and soon discovered the truth. 
He sent information to William. William could not 
believe it possible that his minister's surmises could 
be true; for William was simply a statesman and a 



222 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

soldier, and had very inadequate ideas of the absorb- 
ing and uncontrollable power which is exercised by 
the principle of maternal love. 

He, however, determined immediately to take most 
efficient measures to ascertain the truth. He returned 
to Normandy, and there he succeeded in intercepting 
one of Matilda's messengers on his way to Flanders, 
with communications and money for Robert. The 
name of this messenger was Sampson. William seized 
the money and the letters, and sent the messenger to 
one of his castles, to be shut up in a dungeon. Then, 
with the proofs of guilt which he had thus obtained, 
he went, full of astonishment and anger, to find Ma- 
tilda, and to upbraid her, as he thought she deserved, 
for her base and ungrateful betrayal of her husband. 
The reproaches which he addressed to her were 
bitter and stern, though they seem to have been 
spoken in a tone of sorrow rather than of anger. "I 
am sure," he said, "1 have ever been to you a faith- 
ful and devoted husband. I do not know what more 
you could have desired than 1 have done. I have 
loved you with a sincere and true afifection. I have 
honored you. I have placed you in the highest posi- 
tions, intrusting you repeatedly with large shares of 
my own sovereign power. I have confided in you — 
committing my most essential and vital interests to 
your charge. And now this is the return. You em- 
ploy the very position, and power, and means which 



I077] ROBERT'S REBELLION 223 

your confiding husband has put into your hands, to 
betray him in the most cruel way, and to aid and 
encourage his worst and most dangerous enemy." 

To these reproaches Matilda attempted no reply, 
except to plead the irresistible impetuosity and strength 
of her maternal love. "I could not bear," she said, 
"to leave Robert in distress and suffering while I had 
any possible means of relieving him. He is my child. 
1 think of him all the time. I love him more than 
my life. I solemnly declare to you, that if he were 
now dead, and I could restore him to life by dying 
for him, I would most gladly do it. How, then, do 
you suppose that I could possibly live here in abun- 
dance and luxury, while he was wandering homeless, 
in destitution and want, and not try to relieve him? 
Whether it is right or wrong for me to feel so, I do 
not know; but this I know, I must feel so: I can not 
help it. He is our first-born son; I can not abandon 
him." 

William went away from the presence of Matilda 
full .of resentment and anger. Of course he could do 
nothing in respect to her but reproach her, but he deter- 
mined that the unlucky Sampson should suffer severely 
for the crime. He sent orders to the castle where he 
lay immured, requiring that his eyes should be put 
out. Matilda, however, discovered the danger which 
threatened her messenger in time to send him warn- 
ing. He contrived to make his escape, and fled to a 



224 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

certain monastery which was under Matilda's special 
patronage and charge. A monastery was, in those 
days, a sanctuary into which the arm even of the most 
despotic authority scarcely dared to intrude in pur- 
suit of its victim. To make the safety doubly sure, 
the abbot proposed that the trembhng fugitive should 
join their order and become a monk. Sampson was 
willing to do anything to save his life. The operation 
of putting out the eyes was very generally fatal, so that 
he considered his life at stake. He was, accordingly, 
shaven and shorn, and clothed in the monastic garb. 
He assumed the vows of the order, and entered, with 
his brother monks, upon the course of fastings, pen- 
ances, and prayers which pertained to his new voca- 
tion; and William left him to pursue it in peace. 

Things went on worse instead of better after this 
discovery of the mother's participation in the councils 
of the son. Either through the aid which his mother 
had rendered, or by other means, there seemed to be 
a strong party in and out of Normandy who were in- 
chned to espouse Robert's cause. His friends, at 
length, raised a very considerable army, and putting him 
at the head of it, they advanced to attack Rouen. The 
king, greatly alarmed at this danger, collected all the 
forces that he could command, and went to meet his 
rebel son. William Rufus accompanied his father, intend- 
ing to fight by his side; while Matilda, in an agony of 
terror and distress, remained half-distracted, within 



I077] ROBERT'S REBELLION 225 

her castle walls — as a wife and mother might be ex- 
pected to be, on the approach of a murderous conflict 
between her husband and her son. The thought that 
one of them might, perhaps, be actually killed by the 
other, filled her with dismay. 

And, in fact, this dreadful result came very near 
being realized. Robert, in the castle at L'Aigle, had 
barely been prevented from destroying his brother, 
and now, on the plain of Archembraye, where this 
battle was fought, his father fell, and was very near 
being killed, by his hand. In the midst of the tight, 
while the horsemen were impetuously charging each 
other in various parts of the field, all so disguised by 
their armor that no one could know the individual 
with whom he was contending, Robert encountered a 
large and powerful knight, and drove his lance through 
his armor into his arm. Through the shock of the en- 
counter and the faintness produced by the agony of 
the wound, the horseman fell to the ground, and Rob- 
ert perceived, by the voice with which his fallen en- 
emy cried out in his pain and terror, that it was his 
father that he had thus pierced with his steel. At the 
same moment, the wounded father, in looking at his 
victorious antagonist, recognized his son. He cursed 
his unnatural enemy with a bitter and terrible male- 
diction. Robert was shocked and terrified at what he 
had done. He leaped from his horse, knelt down by 
tlie side of his father, and called for aid. The king. 



226 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

distracted by the anguish of his wound, and by the 
burning indignation and resentment which raged in 
his bosom against the unnatural hostility which in- 
flicted it, turned away from his son, and refused to re- 
ceive any succor from him. 

Besides the misfortune of being unhorsed and 
wounded, the battle itself went that day against the 
king. Robert's army remained masters of the field. 
William Rufus was wounded too, as well as his father. 
Matilda was overwhelmed with distress and mental an- 
guish at the result. She could not endure the idea of 
allowing so unnatural and dreadful a struggle to go on. 
She begged her husband, with the most earnest im- 
portunities and with many tears, to find some way 
of accommodating the dispute. Her nights were sleep- 
less, her days were spent in weeping, and her 
health and strength were soon found to be wasting 
very rapidly away. She was emaciated, wan, and pale, 
and it was plain that such distress, if long continued, 
would soon bring her to the grave. 

Matilda's intercessions at length prevailed. The 
king sent for his son, and, after various negotiations, 
some sort of compromise was effected. The armies 
were disbanded, peace was restored, and Robert and 
his father once more seemed to be friends. Soon after 
this, William, having a campaign to make in the north 
of England, took Robert with him as one of the gen- 
erals in his army. 



CHAPTER XII. 

The Conclusion. 

William's reign in England. — His difficulties.— Feelings of the English people. 

— Rebellions. — Amalgamation of the English and Normans. — William's 
labors. — Necessity of bringing a large Norman force. — Providing for 
them. — The British realm Normanized. — O yes ! O yes ! O yes I — Relics 
of the past. — Their future preservation. — Point of view in which the 
Norman Conquest is regarded, — Domesday Book. — Its great obscurity. 

— Specimen of the Domesday Book. — Translation. — Matilda's health de- 
clines. — Death of her daughter. — Matilda retires to her palace at Caen. 

— Her distress of mind. — Matilda's death.— Memorials of her.— Wil- 
liam's declining years. — His fitfulness and discontent. — Philip ridicules 
William. — William's rage. — William's threats. — Conflagration of Man- 
tes. — William's injury. — His great danger. — William's remorse.— His 
last acts. — Robert absent, — He receives Normandy. — William Rufus and 
Henry. — The king's will.— William's death. — Abandonment of the body. 
— Apprehensions of the people. — The body removed to Caen.— Extraor- 
dinary scenes. — The body conveyed to the monastery on a cart. — The 
procession broken up. — Scene at the interment. — The sarcophagus too 
small.— The body burst.— William Rufus obtains possession of the Eng- 
lish throne. 

FROM the time of the battle of Hastings, which 
took place in 1066, to that of William's death, 
which occurred in 1087, there intervened a 
period of about twenty years, during which the great 
monarch reigned over his extended dominions with a 
very despotic sway, though not without a large share 

of the usual dangers, difficulties, and struggles attend- 

(327) 



228 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

ing such a rule. He brought over immense numbers 
of Normans from Normandy into England, and placed 
all the military and civil power of the empire in 
their hands; and he relied almost entirely upon the 
superiority of his physical force for keeping the coun- 
try in subjugation to his sway. It is true, he main- 
tained that he was the rightful heir to the English 
crown, and that, consequently, the tenure by which 
he held it was the right of inheritance, and not the 
right of conquest; and he professed to believe that 
the people of England generally admitted his claim. 
This was, in fact, to a considerable extent, true. At 
least there was probably a large part of the popula- 
tion who believed William's right to the crown 
superior to that of Harold, whom he had deposed. 
Still, as William was by birth, and education, and 
language a foreigner, and as all the friends and fol- 
lowers who attended him, and, in fact, almost the 
whole of the army, on which he mainly relied for the 
preservation of his power, were foreigners too — wear- 
ing a strange dress, and speaking in an unknown 
tongue — the great mass of the English people could 
not but feel that they were under a species of foreign 
subjugation. Quarrels were therefore continually break- 
ing out between them and their Norman masters, re- 
sulting in fierce and bloody struggles, on their part, 
to get free. These rebellions were always effectually 
put down; but when quelled in one quarter they 



I078] THE CONCLUSION 229 

soon broke out in another, and tliey kept William 
and his forces almost always employed. 

But William was not a mere warrior. He was 
well aware that the permanence and stability of his 
own and his successor's sway in England would de- 
pend finally upon the kind of basis on which the 
civil institutions of the country should rest, and on 
the proper consolidation and adjustment of the ad- 
ministrative and judicial functions of the realm. In 
the intervals of his campaigns, therefore, William de- 
voted a great deal of time and attention to this sub- 
ject, and he evinced a most profound and statesman- 
like wisdom and sagacity in his manner of treat- 
ing it. 

He had, in fact, a Herculean task to perform — a 
double task — viz., to amalgamate two nations, and 
also to fuse and merge two languages into one. He 
was absolutely compelled, by the circumstances under 
which he was placed, to grapple with both these vast 
undertakings. If, at the time when, in his park at 
Rouen, he first heard of Harold's accession, he had 
supposed that there was a party in England in his 
favor strong enough to allow of his proceeding there 
alone, or with a small Norman attendance, so that 
he might rely mainly on the English themselves for 
his accession to the throne, the formidable difficulties 
which, as it was, he had subsequently to encounter, 
would all have been saved. But there was no such 



230 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

party — at least there was no evidence that there was 
one of sufficient strength to justify him in trusting 
himself to it. It seemed to him, then, that if he un- 
dertook to gain possession of the English throne at 
all, he must rely entirely on the force which he could 
take with him from Normandy. To make this reli- 
ance effectual, the force so taken must be an over- 
whelming one. Then, if Normans in great numbers 
were to go to England for the purpose of putting 
him upon the English throne, they must be rewarded, 
and so vast a number of candidates for the prizes of 
honor and wealth could be satisfied only in England, 
and by confiscations there. His possessions in Nor- 
mandy would obviously be insufficient for such a pur- 
pose. It was evident, moreover, that if a large num- 
ber of Norman adventurers were placed in stations of 
trust and honor, and charged with civil offices and ad- 
ministrative functions all over England, they would 
form a sort of class by themselves, and would be 
looked upon with jealousy and envy by the original 
inhabitants, and that there was no hope of maintain- 
ing them safely in their position except by making 
the class as numerous and as strong as possible. In 
a word, William saw very clearly that, while it 
would have been very well, if it had been possible, 
for him to have brought no Normans to England, it 
was clearly best, since so many must go, to contrive 
every means to swell and increase the number. It 



loyS] THE CONCLUSION 231 

was one of those cases where, being obliged to go 
far, it is best to go farther; and William resolved on 
thoroughly Normant^tng, so to speak, the whole Brit- 
ish realm. This enormous undertaking he accom- 
plished fully and permanently; and the institutions of 
England, the lines of family descent, the routine of 
judicial and administrative business, and the very 
language of the realm, retain the Norman character- 
istics which he ingrafted into them, to the present 
day. 

It gives us a feeling akin to that of sublimity to 
find, even in our own land, and in the most remote 
situations of it, the lingering relics of the revolutions 
and deeds of these early ages, still remaining, like a 
faint ripple rolling gently upon a beach in a deep and 
secluded bay, which was set in motion, perhaps, at 
first, as one of the mountainous surges of a wintry 
storm in the most distant sea. For example, if we 
enter the most humble court in any remote and newly- 
settled country in the American forests, a plain and 
rustic-looking man will call the equally rustic-looking 
assembly to order by rapping his baton, the only sym- 
bol of his office, on the floor, and calling out, in words 
mystic and meaningless to him, "O yes ! O yes! O 
yes ! "* He little thinks that he is obeying a behest 
of William the Conqueror, issued eight hundred years 

*Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Norman French for Hearken! hearken! 
hearken! 



232 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

ago, ordaining that his native tongue should be em- 
ployed in the courts of England. The irresistible 
progress of improvement and reform have gradually 
displaced the intruding language again — except so far 
as it has become merged and incorporated with the 
common language of the country — from all the ordinary 
forms of legal proceedings. It lingers still, however, 
as it were, on the threshold, in this call to order; and 
as it is harmless there, the spirit of conservatism will, 
perhaps, preserve for it this last place of refuge for a 
thousand years to come, and " O yes" will be the 
phrase for ordaining silence by many generations of 
officers, who will, perhaps, never have heard of the 
authority whose orders they unwittingly obey. 

The work of incorporating the Norman and Enghsh 
families with one another, and fusing the two lan- 
guages into one, required about a century for its full 
accomplishment; and when at last it was accom- 
plished, the people of England were somewhat puz- 
zled to know whether they ought to feel proud of 
William's exploits in the conquest of England, or hu- 
miliated by them. So far as they were themselves 
descended from the Normans, the conquest was one 
of the glorious deeds of their ancestors. So far as 
they were of English parentage, it would seem to be 
incumbent on them to mourn over their father's de- 
feat. It is obvious that from such a species of perplex- 
ity as this there was no escape, and it has accordingly 



I078] THE CONCLUSION 233 

continued to embarrass the successive generations of 
Englishmen down to the present day. The Norman 
Conquest occupies, therefore, a very uncertain and 
equivocal position in English history, the various mod- 
ern writers who look back to it now, being hardly 
able to determine whether they are to regard it as a 
mortifying subjugation which their ancestors suffered, 
or a glorious victory which they gained. 

One of the great measures of William's reign, and 
one, in fact, for which it has been particularly famous 
in modern times, was a grand census or registration 
of the kingdom, which the Conqueror ordered with 
a view of having on record a perfect enumeration 
and description of all the real and personal property 
in the kingdom. This grand national survey was 
made in 1078. The result was recorded in two vol- 
umes of different sizes, which were called the Great 
and the Little Domesday Book. These books are still 
preserved, and are to this day of the very highest 
authority in respect to all questions touching ancient 
rights of property. One is a folio, and the other a 
quarto volume. The records are written on veilum, 
in a close, abridged, and, to ordinary readers, a per- 
fectly unintelligible character. The language is Latin; 
but a modern Latin scholar, without any means other 
than an inspection of the work, would be utterly 
unable to decipher it! In fact, though the character 
is highly wrought, and in some respects elegant, the 



234 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

whole style and arrangement of the work is pretty 
nearly on a par, in respect to scientific skill, with 
Queen Emma's designs upon the Bayeux tapestry. 
About half a century ago, copies of these works 
were printed, by means of type made to represent 
the original character. But these printed editions 
were found unintelligible and useless until copious 
indexes were prepared, and published to accompany 
them, at great expense of time and labor. 

Some little idea of the character and style of this 
celebrated record may be obtained from the follow- 
ing specimen, which is as faithful an imitation of the 
original as any ordinary typography will allow: 

SSOT tm mtweM^tKf^t. jfteraXb^ ttnvXt. Wt at M9 
^. tin. ittl. m<* 4. )i(. ))f8. Sra. i. bm. cat. Hn DfiUt. I itfUl 
car. 7 P^- bRtt 7 VJt^- tots ci. us. cat. 
lSbiruiH7jfVili^tittda..2fj:. fiip^tl SWani k'fWtt 
aefasnaji; 

The passage, deciphered and expressed in full, 
stands thus — the letters omitted in the original, 
above, being supplied in italics: 

In Brixistan Hutioredo. 

Rex ten^/ Bermundesye. Herz\dus com^s tenuit. Tunc se de- 
ienAebat pro xxiii. hidi's, modo pro xii. hidi's. Terra es/ vm.czrruca- 
/arum. In domzmo esi una czxrucaia et xxv. wWXani et xxxiii. bor- 
dar/V aim una carrucafa. Ibi nova et pulchra ecdesz'a, et xx. ac- 
r<^ prati. Silva v. pora"^ de pasnag/b. 



io82] THE CONCLUSION 235 

The English translation is as follows: 

In Brixistan Hundred. 
The king holds Bermundesye. Earl Herald held it [before]. At 
that time it was rated at thirteen hides; now, at twelve. The arable 
land is eight carrucates [or plow -lands]. There is one carrucate in 
demesne, and twenty -five villans, and thirty -three bordars, with one 
carrucate. There is a new and handsome church, with twenty acres 
of meadow, and woodland for five hogs in pasnage [pasturage] time. 

But we must pass on to the conclusion of the 
story. About the year 1082, Queen Matilda's health 
began seriously to decline. She was harassed by a 
great many anxieties and cares connected with the 
affairs of state which devolved upon her, and arising 
from the situation of her family: these anxieties pro- 
duced great dejection of spirits, and aggravated, if 
they did not wholly cause, her bodily disease. She 
was at this time in Normandy. One great source of 
her mental suffering was her anxiety in respect to 
one of her daughters, who, as well as herself, was 
declining in health. Forgetting her own danger in 
her earnest desires for the welfare of her child, she 
made a sort of pilgrimage to a monastery which con- 
tained the shrine of a certain saint, who, she imag- 
ined, had power to save her daughter. She laid a 
rich present on the shrine; she offered before it 
most earnest prayers, imploring, with tears of bitter 
grief, the intercession of the saint, and manifesting 
every outward symbol of humility and faith. She 



236 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

took her place in the rehgious services of the monas- 
tery, and conformed to its usages, as if she had been 
in the humblest private station. But all was in vain. 
The health of her beloved daughter continued to fail, 
until at length she died; and Matilda, growing her- 
self more feeble, and almost broken hearted through 
grief, shut herself up in the palace at Caen. 

It was in the same palace which William had built, 
within his monastery, many long years before, at 
the time of their marriage. Matilda looked back to 
that period, and to the buoyant hopes and bright an- 
ticipations of power, glory, and happiness which then 
filled her heart, with sadness and sorrow. The 
power and the glory had been attained, and in a 
measure tenfold greater than she had imagined, but 
the happiness had never come. Ambition had been 
contending unceasingly for twenty years, among all 
the branches of her family, against domestic peace 
and love. She possessed, herself, an aspiring mind, 
but the principles of maternal and conjugal love were 
stronger in her heart than those of ambition; and yet 
she was compelled to see ambition bearing down and 
destroying love in all its forms, everywhere around 
her. Her last days were embittered by the breaking 
out of new contests between her husband and her son. 

Matilda sought for peace and comfort in multiplying 
her religious services and observances. She fasted, 
she prayed, she interceded for the forgiveness of her 



1085] THE CONCLUSION 237 

sins with many tears. The monks celebrated mass at 
her bed-side, and made, as she thought, by renewing 
the sacrifice of Christ, a fresh propitiation for her sins. 
William, who was then in Normandy, hearing of her 
forlorn and unhappy condition, came to see her. He 
arrived just in time to see her die. 

They conveyed her body from the palace in her 
husband's monastery at Caen to the convent which 
she had built. It was received there in solemn state, 
and deposited in the tomb. For centuries afterward, 
there remained many memorials of her existence and 
her greatness there, in paintings, embroideries, sacred 
gifts, and records, which have been gradually wasted 
away by the hand of time. They have not, however, 
wholly disappeared, for travelers who visit the spot 
find that many memorials and traditions of Matilda 
linger there still. 

WiUiam himself did not live many years after the 
death of his wife. He was several years older than 
she. in fact, he was now considerably advanced in 
age. He became extremely corpulent as he grew old, 
which, as he was originally of a large frame, made 
him excessively unwieldy. The inconvenience result- 
ing from this habit of body was not the only evil 
that attended it. It affected his health, and even 
threatened to end in serious if not fatal disease. 
While he was thus made comparatively helpless in 
body by the infirmities of his advancing age, he was 



238 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

nevertheless as active and restless in spirit as ever. 
It was, however, no longer the activity of youth, and 
hope, and progress which animated him, but rather 
the fitful uneasiness with which age agitates itself 
under the vexations which it sometimes has to en- 
dure, or struggles convulsively at the approach of 
real or imaginary dangers, threatening the possessions 
which it has been the work of life to gain. The 
dangers in William's case were real, not imaginary. 
He was continually threatened on every side. In 
fact, the very year before he died, the dissensions be- 
tween himself and Robert broke out anev/, and he 
was obliged, unwieldy and helpless as he was, to re- 
pair to Normandy, at the head of an armed force, to 
quell the disturbances which Robert and his partisans 
had raised. 

Robert was countenanced and aided at this time 
by Philip, the King of France, who had always been 
King William's jealous and implacable rival. Philip, 
who, as will be recollected, was very young when 
William asked his aid at the time of his invasion of 
England, was now in middle life, and at the height 
of his power. As he had refused William his aid, he 
was naturally somewhat envious and jealous of his 
success, and he was always ready to take part against 
him. He now aided and abetted Robert in his tur- 
bulence and insubordination, and ridiculed the helpless 
infirmities of the aged king. 



io86] THE CONCLUSION 239 

While William was in Normandy, he submitted to 
a course of medical treatment, in the hope of dimin- 
ishing his excessive corpulency, and relieving the 
disagreeable and dangerous symptoms which attended 
it. While thus in his physician's hands, he was, of 
course, confined to his chamber. Philip, in ridicule, 
called it "being in the straw." He asked some one 
who appeared at his court, having recently arrived 
from Normandy, whether the old woman of England 
was still in the straw. Some miserable tale-bearer, 
such as every where infest society at the present day, 
who delight in quoting to one friend what they think 
will excite their anger against another, repeated these 
words to William. Sick as he was, the sarcasm 
aroused him to a furious paroxysm of rage. He 
swore by "God's brightness and resurrection" that, 
when he got out again, he would kindle such fires 
in Philip's dominions, in commemoration of his de- 
livery, as should make his realms too hot to hold 
him. 

He kept his word — at least so far as respects the 
kindling of the fires; but the fires, instead of making 
Philip's realms too hot to hold him, by a strange yet 
just retribution, were simply the means of closing for- 
ever the mortal career of the hand that kindled them. 
The circumstances of this final scene of the great con- 
queror's earthly history Were these: 

In the execution of his threat to make Philip's do- 



240 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

minions too hot for him, William, as soon as he was 
able to mount his horse, headed an expedition, and 
crossed the frontiers of Normandy, and moved forward 
into the heart of France, laying waste the country, as 
he advanced, with fire and sword. He came soon 
to the town of Mantes, a town upon the Seine, di- 
rectly on the road to Paris. William's soldiers attacked 
the town with furious impetuosity, carried it by as- 
sault and set it on fire. William followed them in, 
through the gates, glorying in the fulfillment of his 
threats of vengeance. Some timbers from a burning 
house had fallen into the street, and, burning there, 
had left a smoldering bed of embers, in which the fire 
was still remaining. William, excited with the feeling 
of exultation and victory, was riding unguardedly 
on through the scene of ruin he had made, issuing 
orders, and shouting in a frantic manner as he went, 
when he was suddenly stopped by a violent recoil 
of his horse from the burning embers, on which 
he had stepped, and which had been concealed from 
view by the ashes which covered them. William, 
unwieldy and comparatively helpless as he was, was 
thrown with great force upon the pommel of the sad- 
dle. He saved himself from falling from the horse, 
but he immediately found that he had sustained some 
serious internal injury. He was obliged to dismount, 
and to be conveyed away, by a very sudden transi- 
tion, from the dreadful scene of conflagration and ven- 



;.iK;v^V.f:v-7 



WOUNDING OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 



loSy] THE CONCLUSION 241 

geance which he had been enacting, to the solemn 
chamber of death. They made a litter for him, and a 
corps of strong men was designated to bear the heavy 
and now helpless burden back to Normandy. 

They took the suffering monarch to Rouen. The 
ablest physicians were summoned to his bed-side. 
After examining his case, they concluded that he must 
die. The tidings threw the unhappy patient into a 
state of extreme anxiety and terror. The recollection 
of the thousand deeds of selfish ambition and cruelty 
which he had been perpetrating, he said, all his days, 
filled him with remorse. He shrank back with invin- 
cible dread from the hour, now so rapidly approach- 
ing, when he was to appear in judgment before God, 
and answer, like any common mortal, for his crimes. 
He had been accustomed all his life to consider him- 
self as above all law, superior to all power, and be- 
yond the reach of all judicial question. But now his 
time had come. He who had so often made others 
tremble, trembled now in his turn, with an acuteness 
of terror and distress which only the boldest and most 
high-handed offenders ever feel. He cried bitterly to 
God for forgiveness, and brought the monks around 
him to help him with incessant prayers. He ordered 
all the money that he had on hand to be given to the 
poor. He sent commands to have the churches which 
he had burned at Mantes rebuilt, and the other injuries 
which he had effected in his anger repaired. In a 

M. ofH.— 12— 16 



242 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

word, he gave himself very earnestly to the work of 
attempting, by all the means considered most effica- 
cious in those days, to avert and appease the dreaded 
anger of Heaven. 

Of his three oldest sons, Robert was away; the 
quarrel between him and his father had become irre- 
concilable, and he would not come to visit him, even 
in his dying hours. William Rufus and Henry were 
there, and they remained very constantly at their father's 
bed-side — not, however, from a principle of filial af- 
fection, but because they wanted to be present when 
he should express his last wishes in respect to the 
disposal of his dominions. Such an expression, 
though oral, would be binding as a will. When, 
at length, the king gave his dying directions in respect 
to the succession, it appeared that, after all, he con- 
sidered his right to the English throne as very doubt- 
ful in the sight of God. He had, in a former part of 
his life, promised Normandy to Robert, as his inherit- 
ance when he himself should die; and though he had 
so often refused to surrender it to him while he him- 
self continued to live, he confirmed his title to the suc- 
cession now. " 1 have promised it to him," he said, 
"and 1 keep my promise; and yet I know that that 
will be a miserable country which is subject to his 
government. He is a proud and foolish knave, and 
can never prosper. As for my kingdom of England," 
he continued, "I bequeath it to no one, for it was not 



io87] THE CONCLUSION 143 

bequeathed to me. I acquired it by force, and at the 
price of blood. I leave it in the hands of God, only 
wishing that my son William Rufus may have it, for 
he has been submissive to me in all things." "And 
what do you give me, father ? " asked Henry, eagerly, 
at,this point. " I give you," said the king, " five thou- 
sand pounds of my treasure." " But what shall I do 
with my five thousand pounds," asked Henry, " If you 
do not give me either house or land?" "Be quiet, 
my son," rejoined the king, "and trust to God. Let 
your brothers go before you; your turn will come 
after theirs." 

The object which had kept the young men at their 
father's bed-side having now been attained, they both 
withdrew. Henry went to get his money, and Wil- 
liam Rufus set off immediately to England to prepare 
the way for his own accession to the throne, as soon 
as his father should be no more. 

The king determined to be removed from his castle 
in Rouen to a monastery which was situated at a 
short distance from the city, without the walls. The 
noise of the city disturbed him, and, besides, he 
thought he should feel safer to die on sacred ground. 
He was accordingly removed to the monastery. There, 
on the tenth of September, he was awakened in the 
morning by hearing the city bells ringing. He asked 
what it meant. He was told that the bells were ring- 
ing for the morning service at the church of St. Mary. 



244 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

He lifted up his hands, looked to heaven, and said. 
"I commend myself to my Lady Mary, the holy 
Mother of God," and almost immediately expired. 

The readers of history have frequent occasion to be 
surprised at the sudden and total change v^hich often 
takes place at the moment of the death of a mighty sov- 
ereign, and even sometimes before his death, in the in- 
dications of the respect and consideration with which 
his attendants and followers regard him. In William's 
case, as has happened in many other cases since, the 
moment he ceased to breathe he was utterly aban- 
doned. Everybody fled, carrying with them, as they 
went, whatever they could seize from the chamber — 
the arms, the furniture, the dresses and the plate; for 
all these articles became their perquisites on the decease 
of their master. The almost incredible statement is 
made that the heartless monsters actually stripped the 
dead body of their sovereign, to make sure of all their 
dues, and left it naked on the stone floor, while they 
bore their prizes to a place of safety. The body lay in 
this neglected state for many hours; for the tidings of 
the great monarch's death, which was so sudden at 
last, produced, as it spread, universal excitement and 
apprehension. No one knew to what changes the event 
would lead, what wars would follow between the 
sons or what insurrections or rebellions might have 
been secretly formed, to break out suddenly when this 
crisis should have arrived. Thus the whole commu- 



loSy] THE CONCLUSION 245 

nity weie thiown into a state of excitement and 
confusion. 

The monk and lay brethren of the monastery at 
length came in, took up the body, and prepared it for 
burial. They then brought crosses, tapers, and censers, 
and began to offer prayers and to chant requiems for 
the repose of the soul of the deceased. They sent also 
to the Archbishop of Rouen, to know what was to be 
done with the body. The archbishop gave orders that 
it should be taken to Caen, and be deposited there in 
the monastery which William had erected at the time 
of his marriage. 

The tale which the ancient historians have told in 
respect to the interment, is still more extraordinary 
than the account of his death; and more inconsistent 
with all the ideas we naturally form of the kind of 
consideration and honor, which the remains of so great 
a potentate would receive at the hands of his house- 
hold and his officers of state. It is said that all the 
members of his household, and all his officers, imme- 
diately after his decease, abandoned the town — all 
eagerly occupied in plans and maneuvers to secure 
their positions under the new reign. Some went in 
pursuit of Robert, and some to follow William Rufus. 
Henry locked up his money in a strong box, well 
ironed, and went off with it to find some place of 
security. There was nobody left to take the neglected 
body to the grave. 



246 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

At last ^ countryman was found who undertook 
to transport the heavy burden from Rouen to Caen. 
He procured a cart, and conveyed it from the mon- 
astery to the river, where it was put on board a ves- 
sel, and taken down the Seine to its mouth, and thence 
by sea to Caen. The Abbot of St. Stephen's, which 
was the name of William 's monastery there, came, 
with some monks and a procession of the people, to 
accompany the body to the abbey. As this procession 
was moving along, however, a fire broke out in the 
town, and the attendants, actuated either by a sense 
of duty requiring them to aid in extinguishing the 
flames, or by curiosity to witness the conflagration, 
abandoned the funeral cortege. The procession was 
broken up, and the whole multitude, clergy and laity, 
went off to the fire, leaving the coffin, with its bear- 
ers, alone. The bearers, however, went on, and con- 
veyed their charge to the church within the abbey 
walls. 

When the time arrived for the interment, a great 
company assembled to witness the ceremonies. Stones 
had been taken up in the church floor, and a grave 
dug. A stone coffin, a sort of sarcophagus, had been 
prepared, and placed in the grave as a receptacle for 
the body. When all was ready, and the body was 
about to be let down, a man suddenly came forward 
from the crowd and arrested the proceedings. He 
said that the land on which the abbey stood belonged 



1087] THE CONCLUSION 247 

to him; that William had taken forcible possession of 
it, for the abbey, at the time of his marriage; that he, 
the owner, had been compelled thus far to submit to 
this wrong, inasmuch as he had, during William's life- 
timCj no means of redress, but now he protested 
against a spoliation. "The land" he said, "is mine; 
it belonged to my father. I have not sold it, or for- 
feited it, nor pledged it, nor given it. It is my right. 
I claim it. In the name of God, 1 forbid you to put 
the body of the spoiler there, or to cover him with 
my ground. " 

When the excitement and surprise which this de- 
nunciation had awakened had subsided a little, the 
bishops called this sudden claimant aside, examined 
the proofs of his allegations, and, finding that the 
case was truly as he stated it, they paid him, on 
the spot, a sum equal to the value of ground enough 
for a grave, and promised to take immediate meas- 
ures for the payment of the rest. The remonstrant 
then consented that the interment might proceed. 

In attempting to let the body down into the place 
prepared for it, they found that the sarcophagus was too 
small. They undertook to force the body in. In 
attempting this, the coffm was broken, and the body, 
already, through the long delays, advanced in decom- 
position, was burst. The monks brought incense and 
perfumes, and burned and sprinkled them around the 
place, but in vain. The church was so oflfenslvc 



248 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR 

that every body abandoned it at once, except the 
workmen who remained to fill the grave. 

While these things were transpiring in Normandy, 
Wilham Rufus had hastened to England, taking with 
him the evidence of his father's dying wish that he 
should succeed him on the English throne. Before he 
reached headquarters there, he heard of his father's 
death, and he succeeded in inducing the Norman 
chieftains to proclaim him king. Robert's friends 
made an effort to advance his claims, but they could 
do nothing effectual for him, and so it was soon 
settled, by a treaty between the brothers, that Wil- 
liam Rufus should reign in England, while Robert was 
to content himself with his father's ancient domain of 
Normandy. 



THE IND. 



AUG 6 1906 



